Dominion

by C. J. Sansom

  When dinner was over Eileen asked them to split the night watch, Ben first. After eating they all sat in the living room, except for Natalia, who went upstairs, to David and Geoff’s bedroom, for a rest. Geoff coughed frequently; with six of them packed into the living room, most smoking, the room had quickly become a fug. Eileen suggested Geoff go and sit in the front room. Frank asked if he could rest upstairs for a while. Ben looked at David, who nodded; Frank had given him his promise to do nothing stupid.

  They watched the news; London was at a standstill because of the fog, emergency rooms in all the hospitals full of people with weak chests. A couple more women had been attacked by assailants they hadn’t been able to see, hit on the head and their handbags taken. One had been knifed. Sean grunted, ‘The good lord save them, as my mammy would have said. Only he doesn’t.’

  ‘You were brought up a Catholic?’ David had noticed that unlike other Irish homes he had visited, there was no Catholic imagery anywhere in the house.

  ‘We both were,’ Eileen said. ‘You?’

  ‘No, my parents weren’t believers.’

  A look of sadness crossed her face. ‘How can anyone believe in the Catholic Church, after what they’ve done to support all the Fascist regimes – in Spain, Italy, Croatia?’

  Sean nodded agreement. ‘Ireland too, that’s no paradise. Did anyone see that film the Pope made a few years ago?’

  ‘I did,’ David said. ‘Pius XII walking in his garden, showing the world the way of peace. As though he didn’t live in this world at all.’

  ‘Live in it. Ha.’ Sean growled. ‘He helped build it. That’s why they even show him on British TV now.’

  At the end of the news there was an extended interview with Beaver brook about the new reduced tariffs on trade with Europe, Beaverbrook pugnacious and optimistic, the interviewer respectful as usual. The Jewish deportations were not mentioned. The Prime Minister said that on his recent visit he had formed the closest relations with Dr Goebbels, praised all the propaganda minister had done for Germany. Sean said, ‘The wind’s shifting further to Goebbels all the time. If Hitler dies, who will he go with, Himmler or Speer?’

  Ben agreed. ‘Beaverbrook’s making Goebbels his insurance policy. Bet it was Goebbels who got him to promise he’d get rid of the Jews when he went to Germany. A personal favour.’

  David went upstairs to check on Frank, who was sitting on the mattress massaging his bad hand. He looked up at David. ‘It’s sore tonight.’ He winced. ‘It doesn’t like the damp.’

  ‘Hopefully we’ll be off in a day or two.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘We’ll know when it’s safe for us to know.’

  Frank said, ‘Natalia came in to talk to me for a while. She’s nice, she understands things. She told me about her brother. He had problems too. Women – they mostly don’t understand, they can be even worse than men. But she’s not like that, is she?’

  David smiled. ‘No. She’s pretty special.’

  ‘I told her about school.’ He looked at his hand. ‘You know, sometimes I wonder what my life might have been, if my mother had never met Mrs Baker, if I’d never gone to Strangmans. There’s a physicist in America who thinks the world we live in is only one of millions of parallel worlds, existing alongside each other, each different in tiny little ways. Maybe worlds where everyone is happy.’ His face clouded. ‘And maybe ones where everyone was killed by the atom bomb. I try not to think about that.’

  ‘We’re stuck in the world as it is,’ David said. ‘It’s a bad place but we have to do the best we can.’

  ‘That’s what Natalia said.’

  ‘I’m going to sleep here while Ben goes on watch. Leave Natalia to rest in my room for a bit.’

  ‘I’m ready to go to bed, too.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to get ready, go and have a last fag.’

  ‘Okay.’ Frank smiled a gentle little smile again. ‘Thanks, David,’ he said. ‘Thanks for everything.’

  David passed the room where Natalia was resting. He heard movement inside. He hesitated, then knocked quietly on the door. She called to him to come in. She was sitting on the side of the mattress, the one he had slept on last night, brushing her hair. She smiled at him.

  ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Usually I can sleep anywhere, but not this evening.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.’ David closed the door. ‘You’re right. I will tell people I’m Jewish. But I want my wife to be the first to know.’

  Natalia looked at him. ‘Will she be unhappy about it?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I don’t know. But she’ll care about there being yet another secret, so I want to tell her first.’

  ‘That sounds – right.’

  He shook his head. ‘Ever since our son died – it’s strange, you’d think tragedy would bring people together, but just as often it drives you apart.’

  She looked at him seriously. ‘My husband – he had a secret from me, too. I told you he was German Army Intelligence, you remember? The Abwehr?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He was posted to England, at the end of 1942; the year we had seen the Jews taken away in the summer. We married just before we left, in Berlin. My brother was not long dead. He was a cipher clerk, at Senate House.’

  ‘Hasn’t the Abwehr been dissolved? There was talk of some plot to kill Hitler.’

  ‘Yes. In 1943. I don’t know what sort of Germany the officers would have created –’ she smiled sadly – ‘something old-fashioned and proper, I think, Gustav was a very old-fashioned man.’

  ‘Was he involved?’

  ‘Yes. He never got over that time we saw the Jews, on that train. Someone betrayed the plotters, we never knew who. A lot of the Abwehr people were executed. Others who the Nazis weren’t sure of, like Gustav, were sent to the East. To posts they would not return from. There were even suspicions about Rommel, you know, but nothing was proved.’

  ‘How did you find out your husband was involved?’

  ‘When he was posted to Russia, I stayed behind. He arranged it.’ She sighed deeply. ‘Then one day, not long after he was killed at the front, in 1945, the Resistance contacted me. That was in their very early days, Churchill was still in Parliament, but he could see what was coming. They had already set up networks of supporters, people who could help with intelligence. And I was working as an interpreter; I met many of the Germans who came here. The Resistance had been in touch with my husband, you see, he was working for them, he had become what you call a double agent. He told them I might help them, if anything happened to him. But while he was alive he never told me. He wanted to protect me, as you wish to protect your wife. I think he also wanted me to know he had opposed the Nazis.’ She looked at David, smiling her sad smile. ‘So, I too know about secrets, brave people with secrets.’

  ‘And you decided to join the Resistance?’ She’s lived this dangerous life for seven years, he thought.

  ‘Yes. Because I had nothing left. And I wanted to get back at them. For Gustav, for my broken country, for my brother. And to try and end Europe’s nationalist frenzy. It’s not just vengeance, you know, I want something better, a better world.’

  David looked down at the floor. ‘Frank said just now he thinks you understand him. I suppose that’s because of your brother’s problems.’

  She nodded, not speaking.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘They’ve taken everything from you, haven’t they?’

  He saw tears in her eyes, but she smiled bravely and said, ‘Gustav and I had happy times. My brother Peter and I had good years, too, before the war. Bratislava was a cosmopolitan city then, and we were part of it. We went to university together.’ She sighed. ‘In that pretty old city by the Danube. I am sentimentalizing, it was dirty and poor, too. But in our circles, among our friends, whether you were part Hungarian, part Jew, part Slovak, part German, part Tartar, it didn’t matter. Everyone is part something, y
ou know. In the nineteenth century not having a fixed national identity was perfectly common in Eastern Europe. But then nationalism turned that into a danger.’

  David hesitated again, then sat down on the bed beside her. ‘We English think we’re special.’

  ‘It’s that part of your culture you share with the Germans. The great Imperial nation part. I think in the thirties you thought fascism would never come to Britain; you had been a democracy so long, and you felt, as you said, special. But you were wrong; given the right circumstances fascism can infest any country, feeding off the hatreds and nationalisms that already exist. Nobody is safe.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘We have our own little Fascist leaders in Slovakia. People for whom nationalism is everything.’

  ‘And your leader is a priest.’

  ‘Yes. Monsignor Tiso. The ruling party has Fascist sections and Catholic components. The Vatican and the Fascists work together in most of Europe. They both like order. Though when the Jews were taken away, some Catholic priests came out and protested.’ She shook her head in puzzlement. ‘While others said they deserved all they got. My husband Gustav was a Catholic, you know, a good Catholic.’ She turned to him. ‘A good man, like you.’ She hesitated, then laid a hand on his. And this time David responded. He leaned forward and kissed her.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  SINCE COMING TO SEAN AND EILEEN’S house Frank had, for the first time in over a week, passed hours at a stretch without thinking of death. Sitting with the others, talking to them, he would feel a strange warmth inside, towards these people who were endangering their lives for him. He had been frightened of Sean at first but then he’d apologized for his behaviour, something Frank couldn’t remember anyone ever doing before. That afternoon, playing games in the lounge, he had actually forgotten the constant danger, relaxed a little. After dinner his drugs made him tired and he went upstairs to lie down, dozing off for a while.

  A soft knock at the door woke him.

  ‘Yes?’

  The woman, Natalia, came in. Frank smiled at her nervously.

  ‘How are you?’ she asked.

  ‘Not so bad.’

  She leaned against the wall – weighing him up, Frank thought, though in a friendly way. ‘Things must have been very bad for you,’ she said quietly. ‘Ever since the accident with your brother.’ She hesitated. ‘But trying to run off like you did in that field, that was not right.’

  ‘I know. It put you all in danger. But I didn’t see how we could escape.’

  She smiled and spread her arms. ‘But we are here. And you heard Eileen, there is a submarine waiting to collect us. We are moving closer to safety, Frank, step by step. And already you have changed.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I have watched you, this past week. When we first picked you up from the hospital your walk was slouched; you slumped over. Already it is a little less so. And your speech is more –’ she smiled – ‘direct.’

  ‘Is it?’ He wanted to believe her, to hope, but it was hard. He changed the subject. ‘Where are you from?’ he asked curiously.

  ‘I am from Slovakia. It was part of Czechoslovakia once: you remember, the country Mr Chamberlain gave to Hitler.’

  ‘I was always against appeasement. David and Geoff and I used to talk about it at university.’

  She took out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’

  ‘Please. Did you escape from your country?’

  ‘I was lucky. I met a German, a good German. I came to England with him. After he died I decided to help the Resistance.’

  ‘You must have met Nazis, too. We’re told they’re our friends, but I never thought so.’

  ‘The Germans have fallen under the spell of a madman, much of the German army, also. Though they are realists, too, they know now that they can never conquer all of Russia. I think when Hitler dies the army and the SS will fight each other.’ She smiled. ‘And then the Resistance in Europe will have a great opportunity.’

  Frank said, ‘The Germans must never get hold of my secret. You do understand that.’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded seriously. ‘It must be hard, carrying dangerous knowledge in your head.’

  ‘But you don’t know what it is, do you?’ Frank looked alarmed for a moment.

  ‘No.’

  He hesitated, then asked, ‘Do you carry one of those poison pills David has?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I told him to ask you if I could have one.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid the answer is no. If the Germans come, I promise you they won’t take any of us alive.’ She looked him in the eye. He admired her clear, cool directness.

  ‘You must think about dying too, all of you,’ he said. ‘A sudden blackness, ceasing to exist. Or heaven, walking in a garden with Jesus.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Or hell. The lives God gives to us, the awful things we can’t escape from. Sometimes I think that sort of God would enjoy making hell for us after we die.’

  ‘I think we’ll all just face the blackness.’

  ‘So do I, really.’

  ‘May I sit down?’ Natalia asked.

  ‘Of course.’

  There were no chairs in the room so she sat on the floor opposite him, leaning back against the wall. Frank asked, ‘Why do you want to keep me alive?’

  ‘I’ve been told it’s what the Americans want. For us to rescue you and get you to the coast.’

  ‘Aren’t you curious? You and the Resistance people? About what I know?’

  She smiled. ‘We’ve been told not to ask. And the Resistance is like an army, we’re soldiers, we obey orders.’

  ‘You kill people like soldiers as well, don’t you? The stories about bombs and assassinations, they’re true, aren’t they?’

  ‘I wish there were another way. But all other roads have been blocked off.’

  ‘Have you killed anyone yourself?’

  She didn’t answer. Frank said, ‘My brother, he started all this, put us all in danger.’

  She smiled sadly. ‘I had a brother, too.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yes. But he was not like yours. We were close. But he had – what they call mental problems. Difficulties in dealing with the world. When he was young he was very confident, but I think there was always fear underneath.’

  ‘Did he go to hospital like me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘My brother Edgar was confident. Everything came his way. Or seemed to.’

  She smiled encouragingly. And then, to his own surprise Frank found himself telling her about his childhood, his brother and his mother, Mrs Baker, and then the school. He had never talked to anyone about these things the way he talked to Natalia now. Because she listened, and believed him, and didn’t judge. At the end Frank said, ‘I’ve always been afraid, like your brother.’

  ‘But you had real things to be frightened of,’ Natalia said. ‘My brother was different, he didn’t have any real cause for fear. Not until the war came.’

  ‘What was he like?’

  She smiled. ‘Peter was two years older than me. He had Tartar eyes like mine, but blond hair like our mother, who had German blood. A mixture. A beautiful mixture. A big, noisy boy, always getting into scrapes. But everyone forgave him, because he never meant harm to any living thing. And all the girls loved him.’

  Frank frowned slightly. He sounded too good to be real. Natalia caught his look and smiled. ‘It’s true, everyone loved him. I worshipped him. Yet sometimes I would find him standing in a room quite still, looking so afraid. I used to ask him what the matter was and he would say, “Nothing, I was just thinking”. Our mother died just after Peter started university, while I was still at school, and that made him worse.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘She had a sudden heart attack. I remember one day after she died going into our sitting room and Peter was standing looking out of the window, his hands clasped together so tightly. He had that frightened loo
k and there were tears in his eyes. I asked what the matter was. He said, “We’re all alone, Natalia. There’s no meaning, no safety. Something can just come out of the blue and destroy us like it did Mother and there’s nothing we can do.” He said, I remember it exactly, “We spend all our lives walking on the thinnest of thin ice, it can break at any moment and then we fall through.” I see him now, standing there, the words rushing out of him, the blue sky outside our window.’ Natalia broke off and smiled. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to distress you.’

  ‘Thin ice. Yes. I’ve always known about that.’

  ‘Perhaps we all do. But we all have to go on hoping it won’t break.’ She sighed. ‘Otherwise, like Peter, or your mother, you can go looking for salvation in some mad theory, some pattern to the world that isn’t really there.’

  ‘What did he believe in?’

  ‘Communism. He joined the Party just after our mother died. So many people in Europe turned to the Fascists and Communists in those years. Peter became a Communist and he was much happier for a while. He thought he had found the key to history. The Fascists thought they had too, of course, in nationality. Peter finished university, did some painting – he was a painter like me, though a much better one. Before he joined the Party he did some remarkable work, surreal, I think it reflected the confusion in his mind. But later he designed Party posters, square-jawed workers and beautiful maidens waving scythes . . .’ She laughed. ‘Our father was a merchant, he was so angry when Peter became a Communist.’

  ‘I’ve never really believed in anything,’ Frank said sadly. ‘I just wanted to be left alone.’

  ‘You believed in science. You worked at a university.’

  ‘Believed in it? I was interested in it.’ He shook his head. ‘In my old life I worked. I ate. I slept. I read science-fiction magazines and books. I had a flat in Birmingham. I don’t think I’ll see it again.’

  ‘Peter was living in a science-fiction book called communism,’ Natalia said with sudden bitterness. ‘He thought he saw the future of humanity, its true meaning, in Russia. But then he went there. On an official tour. I had been away studying English, in London.’