Pegasus: A Novel

by Danielle Steel

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” his tenant said in a low voice, and Alex could see that they were both shaking from the cold.

  “Come in,” Alex said, and stood aside, still not sure what they wanted, and he noticed that the man he didn’t know looked afraid, and kept glancing over his shoulder. “What can I do for you?” he asked his tenant.

  “I need to borrow a horse,” he said simply. “I didn’t want to just take one.”

  “Well, that’s a good thing,” Alex said, turning off the stove, where he’d been cooking his simple dinner. “Besides, you can’t take a horse anywhere tonight. There’s ice on the ground. You’ll lame him, and he’ll break a leg in five minutes. Why do you need a horse?” The tenant farmer glanced at his friend and then back at the landlord he trusted and had known all his life.

  “My friend needs to get to the Swiss border.”

  “That’s a long way from here. Should I ask why?” The tenant farmer shook his head, and the injured man lowered himself into a chair with a groan. The leg looked painful. “I don’t think your friend’s in any condition to travel.” Alex sized up the situation, and then noticed that there was blood dripping on the floor, and he realized that more than likely the second man had been shot. “Is anyone going to come looking for you?” he asked him directly.

  “Not now. Maybe tomorrow. I think they may think I’m dead. They won’t check until morning,” the injured man said honestly.

  “That’s reassuring,” Alex said, with a wry look at them both, wondering what he was getting himself into. And then Alex thought of something. “Are you Jewish?” The man hesitated, and then nodded. His friend had convinced him that his landlord was a man you could trust.

  “They took my family away two months ago. I was at an auction, in another county, selling a horse so I could feed them. And when I came back, they were gone. All of them, my wife, my two children, my mother, and my aunt. All women and children.”

  “Do you know where they are?”

  “They were sent to a camp. I don’t know where. I’ve been hiding ever since. One of the patrols saw me two days ago. They don’t know who I am. I was hiding in the woods. And then they saw me again tonight. I’ve tried to stay away from everyone I know,” he said, looking at them both. “One of them shot me. I don’t know if they even care enough to come back. I was going to try and leave tonight, if you gave me a horse.” He sounded desperate and was obviously in pain.

  “Is there a bullet in that wound?” Alex asked cautiously. If so, they would have to get it out. He’d never done that before.

  “He just grazed me,” he said, and Alex nodded, trying to think of what to do with him. His home had never been searched, but they might change their mind, if there was a man on the loose nearby, even if they didn’t suspect him, and they had no reason to. Yet.

  “We ought to get some disinfectant on it. Some whiskey will do,” he said, looking for a bottle in a cupboard, and he took it out when he found it. “You’re better off hiding somewhere for a few days, and taking off again when you can walk. I have a wine cellar downstairs. And then we can figure out how to get you to the border, but not on horseback. I’m not going to kill my horses for you,” he said sternly. He wasn’t thrilled to be pulled into this project. But now they were here, and it was Christmas. He had nothing else to do. He had the man lower his trousers and poured the whiskey on the wound. It looked clean. And then he led the way downstairs. The wine cellar was dry but it was cold. He went upstairs and got him a blanket, and then he went back to the kitchen and put a potato and some carrots on a plate, and brought it down to the cellar, and handed the bottle of whiskey to him along with it. “This might help.” And then he and his tenant went back upstairs. There was no light in the cellar, but the man needed to sleep anyway.

  “Look for blood in the snow when you leave,” he told his tenant, “and come back in two days. He should be better by then.”

  “I didn’t think you would take him in,” his tenant said apologetically. “I’m sorry, sir. We just wanted a horse.”

  “It’s all right,” Alex said, looking tired. “I’d rather get shot for a man than for a horse. We’ll figure out what to do. Merry Christmas, by the way.”

  “Merry Christmas, sir,” his tenant said, and left an instant later, with a look of disbelief.

  Alex checked on his unexpected guest then. He had eaten the food, he smelled of the whiskey, and he was already asleep. Alex didn’t even know if he was telling the truth, but he trusted his tenant, and they had come to him. So he had decided to help. The story he had told was heart-wrenching. He had lost his entire family in one blow. And he wasn’t unique. There were too many others like him all over Germany now. People who weren’t lucky enough to join a circus with eight horses and a boxcar before the war, and had no way out now. Everything about it seemed wrong to Alex, as he turned off the lights and went upstairs to bed. He tried not to think about Marianne’s empty room, which he did every night as he walked by. He lay awake for hours, trying to figure out what to do for the man in his cellar.

  He checked on him again in the morning. The wound was still clean and he felt better, and no one came to search the house. There were no soldiers anywhere, and his housekeeper was off for two days. He brought the man food again, and let him come upstairs to use the bathroom, and then took him back down to the wine cellar. They didn’t speak to each other except for the man saying thank you in an emotional voice, as Alex locked the wine cellar again. The house was entirely quiet, and the next afternoon, his tenant returned.

  “How is he?” he asked as Alex let him into the house.

  “He seems all right.” And by then, Alex knew what to do. He had filled his tank with all the gas they had, and calculated how far he could go. Almost to the Swiss border, but not quite. Close enough—if the man was clever, careful, and could move fast enough.

  “I have a friend who can help him,” his tenant said cautiously. “If you get him as far as the St. Lorenz Basilica in Kempten. He has a house nearby, and he’ll take him the rest of the way.” And then Alex understood. This was no accident that had just happened. His tenant was obviously helping Jews escape. He had heard about a few brave people doing what they could and his tenant was one of them.

  “My car is in the garage. He can get from the wine cellar to the garage without anyone seeing him. I want him in the trunk—in daylight, at least when we start out. It looks less suspicious than traveling by night. I’ll take him to your friend. And then we will forget this ever happened.” His tenant looked at him gratefully and nodded. “Get him in the car now. I’ll be in the garage in ten minutes.” Alex went upstairs to dress then, in a suit and a hat. He wore a heavy topcoat, and he looked properly dressed when he left the house, as though he might be visiting friends. His tenant was waiting for him in the garage. “Is he in?” The tenant nodded, and then without a word, he handed Alex a pistol.

  “You might need it.” Alex hesitated, and then took it and slipped it in his pocket.

  “Thank you.” And with that he got in the Hispano-Suiza and turned on the ignition as his tenant opened the garage door for him, and he drove out, as the man lumbered off, looking like a farmer on his way home.

  Alex took the main road instead of a back one, and drove past the von Bingens’ estate at a normal speed. A soldier stopped him and recognized him immediately.

  “Good afternoon, Count,” he said respectfully. “Everything in order?”

  “Fine, thank you. I’m going to visit friends.” The soldier waved him on. He didn’t check his papers or look in the car. He knew he didn’t need to, and Alex drove on, until it was dark, and continued on after that. He passed one checkpoint and stopped, and one soldier asked another if he should check the trunk and was told no. And Alex drove on with no problem. He remembered the location where his tenant had told him to go to meet his friend. It wasn’t as close to the Swiss border as his passenger in the trunk might have hoped, but they would take care of getting hi
m over the border, and they were undoubtedly better equipped than Alex to do so, in his coat and hat and city shoes. He didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if the soldier at the second checkpoint had opened the trunk and found him. Alex could still feel the weight of the pistol in his pocket, but he didn’t want to use it.

  He went to the address he’d been given, got out of his car, and knocked. The man who answered the door looked startled to see a Hispano-Suiza outside his door, and someone who looked like Alex. He nodded, and they exchanged a password his tenant had given him. They were on a backcountry road with no one around. The man who had answered the door opened the trunk and helped the injured man, who said a hoarse goodbye and thank you to Alex. He could hardly walk after the cramped ride, but he disappeared into the house. The door closed and Alex drove off without further comment or conversation, making his way back the way he had come. It had been shockingly easy, and he thought about it as he drove toward home.

  He passed the von Bingens’ schloss early that morning, and the colonel was out for a ride. Favory was prancing, and there was vapor coming from his nostrils as the colonel saluted the count, and Alex slowed down with a smile.

  “Enjoying your Lipizzaner, Colonel?” he said politely.

  “Very much so, Count.”

  “He looks well.” The colonel smiled and patted his neck, and Alex drove on, and a few minutes later he was home, as though nothing had happened. His housekeeper came in a few minutes later and made him a cup of tea, as Alex went to put away his hat and topcoat, picked up the cup of tea in the kitchen, and went to his study. He could still feel the pistol in his pocket, and he took it out and locked it in a drawer. It had been a good night’s work, the first of its kind for him, and as he took a sip of the steaming tea, he suspected it wouldn’t be the last. A door had opened for him that night, and he had chosen to step through it. There was no turning back.

  Chapter 20

  Edmund and Marianne’s wedding at Haversham was just as they had planned it. Simon got a day off to be the best man, and Charles gave her away. She wore a dress by Isabel’s dressmaker that molded her figure and made her look like a young goddess in white satin, and she wore the veil that Isabel herself had worn twenty-five years before. And there were twenty of the Beaulieus’ friends from the area in attendance, along with a handful of Edmund’s closest pals from the RAF. All of the young men were in uniform, and Isabel urged everyone not to talk about the war for the rest of the day. They were married in the chapel on the estate, which Isabel filled with flowers from her hothouse, and she made the bride’s bouquet herself of white orchids from the greenhouse. And the weather was fair.

  The bride looked exquisite and was beaming, and the groom ecstatic. They had lunch at the endless table in the dining room, and nearly filled it. It was covered with silver birds and fresh flowers, and at the end of the day the bridal couple drove away to Brighton for a three-day honeymoon at the Grand Hotel, which was funny and old-fashioned, and they both loved it, although it had changed a great deal. Edmund had childhood memories there, which he wanted to share with her, despite the sandbags and provisions for war. All they could see was each other, and the life ahead of them. They would have been happy in a tent under the stars just so they were together, which was all they cared about. They were madly in love with each other. The boardwalk was closed but they chased each other down the beach like children, and retired to their room at regular intervals to make love. And when Edmund brought his bride back to Haversham, she looked peaceful and happy, and he spent one last night with her in the big pink guest room, and she cried the next morning when he left and made him promise again that he would come back.

  “You know I will, Marianne. Always,” he said, as he kissed her for the tenth time in as many minutes, and finally he left. It had all been absolutely perfect, and she was in a daze for days. She wrote to her father to tell him about the wedding, and then to Toby. He couldn’t believe she’d gotten married when he read it. They were only two years apart, and he was still infatuated with Katja, but he couldn’t imagine marrying her for another ten years, if that. Marianne had become a grown-up, and he still felt like a child at seventeen. He told his father about the wedding when he got the letter, and Nick smiled and shook his head.

  “That really makes me feel old. I remember when she was born, not that long ago. Don’t you go getting any ideas,” he said to Toby, who made a face and shook his head.

  “No way. I’m too young. So is she.” He wasn’t sure he approved of her getting married so young, but it was different with girls. It was hard to believe he hadn’t seen her in two and a half years. The time had flown. And their life had changed so much. And now she’d always live in England, and she was a viscountess, in a castle bigger than theirs. And he and his father and brother were living in a trailer with the circus, and they were on tour again. This was their life now, and Toby had grown accustomed to it. They all had. It was comfortable for them, and they liked the familiar routines, although changing towns every night was hard sometimes. But they’d gotten used to that too.

  When they got to California in July, Nick drove Christianna to Santa Ynez again. They had a decent car this time, and they stayed at the same hotel. And some Romanian girls covered for Christianna, but Nick had the feeling that her father knew the truth and chose to turn a blind eye to it. He had grown very fond of Nick and the boys, and he knew how serious Nick was about his daughter. Nick wasn’t playing with her. He loved her, profoundly. And she loved him.

  They drove to the same bluff as they had before, and he looked out over the land he hoped to buy one day. He called it “his ranch,” and Christianna laughed at him. He was still talking about it when he turned to look at her with a gentle expression.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said cautiously. He wanted to be sure this was right for her too. “What do you think about our getting married when we get back to Florida at the end of the tour?”

  “Are you asking me?” she teased him. She thought he was joking or just thinking out loud. They talked about it sometimes, but he always said that he wouldn’t marry her until he felt he had enough put away. And none of them were able to save a lot of money working for the circus, although Nick was always careful and had been saving for three years. He didn’t have enough put aside for a ranch yet, and maybe he never would, but he had what he needed to marry her and feel right about it.

  “Not yet,” he said in answer to her question, and then he got down on one knee where they’d been standing at the top of the bluff. “Now I am,” he said, smiling up at her. “Will you marry me, Christianna?” Her eyes opened wide.

  “Are you serious? Now?”

  “At the end of the tour.” He wanted to take her on a real honeymoon, and he couldn’t do that until they got back.

  “I mean, you’re asking me now?”

  “Yes, I am. I love you, and I want to wake up with you every morning for the rest of my life.” They’d been sneaking around for two years. It was long enough. Too long.

  “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Yes … yes!” She wanted to shout it off the bluff. He stood up and kissed her then, and he stunned her by taking a tiny engagement ring out of a box in his pocket. It had a small diamond in it, but it was a proper ring. He had been planning this for a long time, and had wanted to do it here, at their future “ranch.” She didn’t believe he’d ever really have it, but it was as good a place as any and a very romantic spot. He put the ring on her finger and kissed her again, and then he swept her up in his arms, put her in the car, and took her back to the hotel, where they made love to celebrate the moment, two years after they had made love there for the first time.

  “It’s going to be a big wedding if we do it at the circus,” she said after they made love.

  “I don’t think we can do it any other way,” Nick said practically. “The circus is going to make a big fuss about it.” It was all part of the hype of being circus stars, but he was prepared for that
.

  They told her family when they went back to the fairground in Santa Barbara the next day. And word spread like wildfire that they were engaged. They even got a telegram congratulating them from John Ringling North, and suggesting that they hold the wedding at Ca’ d’Zan, the original home of John and Mabel Ringling, which was their palatial estate in Sarasota. It was going to be an even bigger deal than Nick had thought, and the Ringlings wanted all the publicity they could get.

  By the time they got back to Sarasota in early November, the date was set, Christianna had the dress, and John Ringling North was going to have commemorative posters made of the couple to sell at the big top for the next year. Nick and Christianna were the stars of the circus, and were treated like royalty. And this was going to be a royal wedding. They would be married, as he had offered, at Ca’ d’Zan on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and all the performers were invited. They were expecting eight hundred people at the wedding, with a special tent set up for dining and dancing.

  Nick had asked Toby to be the best man, and Lucas was the ring bearer, although he was a little old for it at nine, but he took the job seriously, and stood clutching the rings at the wedding. And Joe Herlihy made a special toast. The bride was radiant and Nick was as handsome as ever in white tie and tails. It was a fabulous event, a true circus extravaganza, and the posters of them sold out the first night and they had to make more. They agreed to do a special show the day after the wedding, and she wore her bridal veil with her white leotard and tutu. And the day after that, Nick took her to the Breakers in Palm Beach for their honeymoon. It was an elegant hotel and they were treated like movie stars while they were there.

  “Well, Mrs. von Bingen”—he smiled at her one night after they made love—“are you tired of me yet?”

  “I’ll never be tired of you, Nick, until I die,” she said solemnly.