by Pirate Irwin
“Talking to yourself, are you, Stuart? First sign of madness, so they say,” boomed von Helldorf’s voice from behind him.
Sebastian jumped at the arrival of the Count as he had moved out on to the terrace to be on his own, finding the atmosphere inside too stuffy and overly saccharin in recalling the life and times of Eric, understandably so but it wasn’t to his taste and certainly not the way he wanted to remember him by. The Count had as usual a drink in his hand but he had brought another one out with him in the other and offered it to Sebastian, which he gratefully accepted. Von Helldorf then handed him a cigarette from the same gold case he had offered him one on their way to the first fateful meeting with von der Schulenburg when he thought he was being taken away to be shot. Helldorf leant over the stone wall overlooking the garden but said nothing, allowing Sebastian to keep to his thoughts that he had just interrupted.
Finally the Count breathed deeply and broke it. “Listen, Sebastian, don’t hold yourself responsible for Eric’s death. Things like this as you have experienced are normal, unfortunately, and I have seen it myself when I fought in the First World War where losing one’s best friends was even more commonplace.
“The first time it happened to me I shall never forget it or him but in order to survive you have to put it to the back of your mind and get on with it, otherwise you are finished. There will be plenty of time to grieve after the war is over, believe me, I’ve had a good 25 years of it and there isn’t a day that goes past without me thinking about him but I console myself by saying as I am still alive I am carrying part of him inside me and that keeps him alive,” he said gently patting Sebastian on the shoulder.
Sebastian nodded, burst into tears, and shielded his face with his hands, von Helldorf steered him away from the windows looking out onto the terrace and sat him down on one of the benches that lay along its length. He held him like a father and a son; it was the first time that Sebastian had ever experienced such a moment and he felt a strange sense of at last belonging not just to himself but to someone who cared and who would look out for him and his welfare and he liked it. No matter that he had proved himself in battle and that he could hold his nerve and look after his men and been entrusted with some high faluting diplomacy at such a tender age. He was still all of 24 and in need of someone he could go to in moments of crises and that person had arrived in the unlikely form of Berlin’s chief of police, Count von Helldorf, the man who one day he had thought was bent on adding him to the list of those who disappeared, only to turn up being washed up on some lake shore after a sad accident. With Eric gone, he had few friends of his own age he could say were intimate ones, not least as his switch to the Germans had seen him pretty well straight into the action and unable to form any real relationships, those from before the war in Berlin had been pretty limited, and aside from Beckmann, Herzog and Berthold he had little else to fall back on and the latter two were still on the front and unlikely to be back soon, whereas Beckmann was inside in the drawing room firmly on message, chatting to the various mourners.
“We’ll come through, Sebastian, don’t worry. You and I are made of the same cloth, we are survivors and the temple may crash down around us but we will still be standing. Old Samson Hitler isn’t going to take us with him, but we could play Delilah to hurt him and give us something to be proud of when the whole charade is over,” von Helldorf jested.
Sebastian wiped his eyes, lifted his glass from the cracked paving stone from which weeds were spreading, and drank its entire contents, the red wine refreshing him and giving him a new vigour. It was as if it was a rite of passage he had just come through and been emboldened by at last discovering, without looking for it, the father figure he had always needed but never acknowledged he required.
“Yes, Count let’s go for it. However, let’s be more like Joshua and pound round his highness’s citadel blowing our trumpets until it crashes down round his ears and we stand victorious over his body and those of the various cripples and disturbed nonentities that are his inner circle,” Sebastian muttered viciously.
Von Helldorf let rip one of his trademark bellows of laughter, slapped Sebastian on the back, almost sending him crashing to the ground with its force and stood up, looking every inch the imperious aristocrat he was, only added to by the General’s uniform he bore.
“That’s my boy. Come, Lieutenant Murat, soon to be Captain, I believe, with a little extra metal to weigh you down, too. Let’s rejoin the rest of the funeral party. This may be a wake but let’s turn it on its head and say its a reawakening . . . of you,” von Helldorf whispered in his ear, laughed and took him by the arm back into the main body of the party.
Sebastian stayed another couple of hours ensuring he attended to every whim of the Baron’s and Henrietta’s, chatting amiably enough with representatives of various ministries while finding it surreal that he was standing there instead of Eric and an Englishman to boot, though to all intents and purposes they did not know that or at least put on a pretence they didn’t. While in such company von Helldorf, Nebe and the others kept up the impression referring to him as Rupert or Lieutenant Murat. However, he grew weary of making small talk and how the Eastern Front was holding well and what a just cause it was, even if there were incidents that were regrettable, as several of the ministers aides put it.
Sebastian would have preferred to use rather stronger language but given the circumstances he did not want to make the Baron’s day of mourning any worse than it was already by creating a scene which would reflect badly on him as he was his host, so he bit his tongue and searched for an opportunity whereby he could escape and drown his sorrows elsewhere. He sought out Beckmann as he saw him as the ideal accomplice to go off with and found him ensconced in conversation with Victoria, who was regarding him with a sense of awe as the handsome Lieutenant was now the one-armed war hero; his shattered limb had had to be amputated and now he could look forward to some desk job and a disability pension, oh the fruits of war, mused Sebastian, but at least he was alive. He wandered over to the duo, thinking sarcastically that no doubt Victoria believed she was doing her bit for the war effort by chatting to a disabled veteran and at the same time wondering what it was like to go to bed with a man with one arm, how do you clasp each other at the moment of orgasm. It struck Sebastian that his thoughts were probably not far from the truth, given the way she was staring into Beckmann’s eyes and holding her glass just under her breasts only emphasizing their size and appeal, which made Sebastian feel not a little jealous.
“Ah, Rupert, Lieutenant Beckmann has been telling me that Eric was not the only hero that sad day,” cooed Victoria, giving him a flash of her tongue as she lolled it suggestively round her red lips.
God, you are a tart, Sebastian thought, how on earth do you get away with it?
“Willy is being too modest, he also played a part in taking that huge metropolis,” replied Sebastian coldly.
Beckmann laughed acknowledging the sarcasm in the tone while Victoria looked questioningly at both of them before lapsing into a polite smile.
“It is a very good thing that Eric chose a hero’s death; it makes it slightly better for the Baron that he should be remembered for that,” chirped Victoria.
“Oh please, Victoria, I think that is hardly the point,” protested Sebastian irritated beyond measure at her naïvety or her clutching onto any form of possible semblance of making things look better than they were.
“If you really think that all those families round the country believe that, oh, it was for the better he died a hero and he did it for a good cause, then you are stupider than I took you for!
“Eric is dead, just as hundreds of thousands of other people are on both sides. The blunt fact is that he and they will never grace their families’ tables again and the loss will always be the same, regardless of the time that passes, and as for the cause, well, we shall see how just it was when we are all called to account at the end of it,” Sebastian added brutally.
Vict
oria recoiled, genuinely shocked at the viciousness of her lover’s remarks but tried her best to brush it aside as understandable bitterness at the death of his best friend and his coming to terms with it. She smiled with sincere warmth at him and Beckmann, who himself had been taken aback at Sebastian’s ferocity but understood it, having been there himself. Sebastian pulled himself together and decided the time was right to extricate himself and Beckmann from the situation and go off and get royally drunk together.
“Excuse me, Victoria, but Willy and I have another engagement which we are late for.”
Beckmann looked quizzically at Sebastian, who nodded towards the door and Willy got the message, bowed to Victoria, saying what a pleasure it had been to meet her but under such sad circumstances and made his way over to proffer the same sentiments to the Baron before taking his leave.
“Why are you so brutal to me, Sebastian?” whined Victoria.
“I’m sorry, Victoria. I didn’t mean to be like that but sometimes you drive me insane with your tittle-tattle. You should think before you speak and what you said then touched a raw nerve. But I apologize,” he smiled weakly and brushed her cheek with his fingertips.
“Shall I see you later, then?” she asked teasingly.
“Don’t you think that just for one night you should remain with your husband? This night of all nights, I don’t believe I am the priority, he is,” sighed Sebastian.
“We’ll see but yes, perhaps you are right. It’s only a few hours anyway and should he fall asleep and I am restless then I may be forced to seek you out,” she preened and winked at him.
“You just don’t get it, do you, Victoria. I give up!” groaned Sebastian and left her standing in her sexy black dress all alone while he went over to bid farewell to his host and recently bereaved father who unlike his second wife was surrounded by well wishers.
“What was all that about, Sebastian?” asked Willy once they had been seated at Kessler’s joint, and were awaiting the man himself to attend to them on this special but sad occasion.
Sebastian ruffled his hair, which after a bath a day for the past week had restored it to its previous lush thick health, and thought what the hell, he might as well be honest with Beckmann as he had failed to be with Eric.
“We’ve been lovers on and off for the past three years,” he said coolly.
Beckmann didn’t bat an eyelid.
“Hence you feel guilt-ridden that you slept with your best friend’s stepmother. Did he know?”
Sebastian shook his head.
“Well then, you have nothing to reproach yourself for, Sebastian. If Eric didn’t know, then he went to his death believing you to be a true and honest friend, which you were. Come on anyway, it would be hard to decline her advances as she’s a very alluring lady if a little short in the brains department, but be on your guard, because of that she is more dangerous. Don’t make an idiot of her too often because she could well turn it to your disadvantage,” warned Willy.
Sebastian agreed with him and changed the subject, chatting idly about how little the club had altered, nor had the clientele, though for the most part the black ties and tailcoats had been replaced by varying uniforms from the different services. It was now only the waiters, who were again predominantly the same as they had been before the war, wearing the formal dress. Finally he espied Kessler manoeuvring his bulky form through the tables towards him, the war and rationing had not touched him obviously. His pate still brought that reassuring reflective glow of the lighting off it and as usual sweat was pouring off him. Aside from that he looked great. However, one thing had changed and that was his manner which for once was genuinely civil and respectful and that took Sebastian by surprise.
“Herr Stuart, I am so sorry about Count von Preetz. It is yet another personal tragedy for our loyal clientele of which we have had many and increasingly so these days. Please accept my heartfelt condolences and pass them on to his father and widow,” he said with all the sincerity he could muster.
Sebastian acknowledged his kind comments but also was a little irked that he had used his real name in front of a perfect stranger such as Beckmann, though thankfully Willy was aware of the situation and willing to abide by the secrecy. Kessler evidently was not and that made coming here a risky business given that he wanted as few people to know about the Englishman in the Wehrmacht, but he let the admonishment pass for the moment aside from correcting Kessler on his name.
“Kessler it is Lieutenant Rupert Murat.”
Kessler shuffled nervously from foot to foot regretting his error but he found it difficult to come round to calling him by his new name, and in any case what sort of pretentious nonsense of a name was it he had chosen. Typical Sebastian, he thought, choose a most unlikely pseudonym for a German officer, anyway it was his choice and he would have to live with it.
“Apologies, Lieutenant. Now, as recognition of your loss and ours, of course, I would like to offer you drinks on the house for the rest of the evening so please feel free to order whatever you would like. And of course you could have extras if you should so wish,” he added winking lasciviously at Stuart.
“What, you haven’t branched out have you, Kessler? My word, you are a little entrepreneur, aren’t you? What would your predecessor think of this proud establishment being turned into a brothel, my, my,” tut-tutted Sebastian.
“Well, with so many of our clients dead or away on their duties we must make do as we can, Lieutenant. Indeed, I am very proud of my girls and my boys, yes there is a market for them too, and many come from some very fine families who have found their talents lie away from the battlefields and more in the minefields of the beds of others,” laughed Kessler.
How disgusting, Sebastian thought, you are, you greasy little man, taking advantage of people’s grief to make money at their expense, but given he was on shaky ground with him he kept his own counsel.
“Very well, Kessler, we shall see how the evening progresses. But to start off in honour of Eric we shall have a bottle of your finest champagne, it is still, I trust, Roederer Cristal, and then you can bring on the boys, naked or not! By the way, Kessler, before you think I have taken leave of my senses, the latter bit was a joke. War may turn us testosterone-charged men into brutes and madmen but we don’t all come back with a longing for male flesh!” Sebastian joked, provoking Willy into a belly laugh.
Kessler too joined in the joke, though, as he made his way over to the bar he wondered whether he would ever be able to fathom how this Englishman ticked. As for making jokes about his lovely young boys, that really was not very charitable as they took their work seriously. They were only too keen to serve the Reich by any means they could and if that meant taking some pansy of a rich minister’s dick up their arse so be it, it was a pain worth bearing.
*
Sebastian lobbied hard through the Baron to gain a switch from frontline officer to a more strategic role based still on the Eastern Front. Having given his assurances that he would cooperate actively in the resistance to Hitler, he was assigned to the staff of Army Group Centre commanded by Field Marshal Gunther von Kluge, within whose ranks were many opposed to the regime.
Sebastian spent most of his days in the company of Henrietta, which at first he had thought would not be possible as he carried so much guilt at not saving his friend from himself. It soon became apparent, however, that she wanted him round her as a reminder of the good days with Eric and they formed a stronger friendship than had ever been the case prior to the war. Berlin itself still showed little sign of bearing the brunt of the war and while there were plenty of walking wounded to be seen ambling through the Tiergarten and sitting at cafés, the ordinary citizen went about its business as if the war was another world away, which made Sebastian feel even more alienated. Security was as tight as ever, if not even more so, with papers being checked regularly, though wearing his uniform gave him an air of authority and despite his accent being slightly anglicized, the months spent among the men out in the w
astelands had added a guttural timbre to it. Rare was the time he would overhear words uttered openly against the government, it was as if the words of ultimate victory were still being gobbled up and even the experiences of the soldiers returning from the front were taken with a pinch of salt, as if the Soviets were simply putting up one last desperate defence of their country before giving in to the inevitable. Let them think that, mused Sebastian, but he and many others who had actually been out there knew the reality of the situation; were the people to learn it they would lapse into deep shock and the queues pouring out of Berlin would be hard to hold back.