Bill shivered. His pyjamas were drenched with sweat and his blankets were on the floor. He stumbled into the kitchen to make coffee and was appalled to see how his hands were shaking. Gazing in the mirror, he hardly recognised his haggard face and swollen eyes. It was guilt that was driving him crazy, he reckoned. He should have got them out sooner. In disgust, he thrust away the insidious thought that there was nothing he could have done; the Nazis had all the power.
Then he heard the sound that must have woken him, like a kitten mewing. He put down his cup and went to the passage. He heard it again. Bill flung open the door and saw a body slumped against the wall. As he bent over it, he nearly gagged on the stench of blood, vomit and stale sweat.
‘Oh my God . . . oh dear God . . .’ He couldn’t stop muttering as he half-carried and half-dragged Taube into his passage. Was she alive? How had she got here? She was so cold . . . as cold as death.
His first reaction was to call an ambulance, but in this crazy New Order, they’d just ship her off to the camps. He got her into his bed, packed the blankets around her and turned on the heater. What the hell else could he do . . . Then he remembered that a doctor or some sort of specialist lived on the same floor. Leaving the door ajar, he ran and woke the man, who came at once, with a raincoat thrown over his pyjamas. Bill made coffee while the doctor was closeted in his bedroom. When he emerged, his eyes were like stones, his mouth a thin line. He seemed to have trouble speaking coherently through his anger.
‘You should be horsewhipped . . .’ he began. ‘Men like you should be castrated. I intend to report you to the police. Is this how you get your kicks? Can you never get enough of it?’
‘She’s a Jew,’ Bill said, his voice flat. ‘The Brownshirts attacked her family. Her father is dead, her mother on some train to a camp. I thought she was dead too. I don’t know how she got here.’
‘Of course, I should have guessed.’ The doctor blushed slightly. ‘My apologies.’
‘Does it matter?’ Bill snarled.
‘Not to me, my friend,’ the doctor said. ‘There’ll be no charge. I’ve never set eyes on her, nor you. I’ve given her an injection. She’s suffering from shock, exposure, rape, hunger, bruises . . . Need I say more? Keep her safe, warm and fed for as long as you can. A strange world we live in, my friend.’
*
After a week of nursing and hiding Taube, listening for footsteps, avoiding the neighbours, and fearing for her life every second of every day, Bill set about trying to get Taube out of Germany. He offered to marry her, but Taube refused.
‘I never felt particularly Jewish before,’ she said, ‘but now I do. I can’t marry you, not even to save my life. Besides, it would be so unfair on you.’
Bill argued for days, but Taube would not give in.
Aware the Embassy would not bend immigration rules on his account, he decided to contact Marietta. Frustrated by not being able to speak to her immediately, he left a garbled message with Andrea.
Bill was asleep when the phone rang. The sound of Marie’s voice brought an onrush of joy. Glancing at his watch he saw that it was past midnight.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
‘I need to help Taube . . .’
‘Tell me what happened.’
After Bill had related the details of the attack on the Bloombergs and how Taube had come to him, there was a long silence. Then Marietta said: ‘She shouldn’t be with you. That’s the first place . . .’ She broke off. When she spoke again, Bill thought she’d taken leave of her senses. ‘I’m planning a family party at Boubin for my birthday. Please come.’
‘Marietta, for Christ’s sake, what are you thinking of? I don’t feel like celebrating. I’m not calling you for a social engagement.’
‘Bill, it’s all interconnected. I need you . . . with a capital N. Truly!’
‘All right. I’ll be there. But there’s a problem. I have to go to Sweden for a few days. It’s vital. I should leave the day after tomorrow . . . I dare not leave . . .’
‘We’ll collect long before then.’
‘I’ll ring you when I get back.’
He replaced the receiver with relief. He knew that Taube would be taken to a safe house where she would stay while her forged papers and passport were being created. Then she would join the Pastor’s chain to get out of Germany. For the first time in days he slept dreamlessly.
It was 6 a.m. when Bill awoke to the sound of a car drawing up outside his apartment. He leaped out of a bed and peered through the curtains, dreading the sight of a Gestapo van.
He saw an old man with a beard, wearing a clerical collar and a black suit. The man identified himself as a Pastor in the local Church of Sweden and affiliated to the Red Cross. He started at every sound, anxious to be gone. In the nervous tension Bill and Taube barely spoke. When she had gone the apartment was as silent as a tomb.
*
Bill had stumbled upon news which scared the hell out of him. From contacts high up in the Third Reich, he had been told that a German physicist, Otto Hahn, had developed a method to exploit the energy in the atom, following the discovery of a new radioactive process called nuclear fission, which could create unimaginable energy. Hahn’s former assistant, Frau Lise Meitner, had fled to Sweden taking Hahn’s research with her.
This was the reason for Bill’s trip and the following morning, he flew to Stockholm and managed to contact Lise Meitner through the Jewish Board of Deputies. She spent several hours with Bill and gave him copies of her notes to send to the States.
Bill wrote a series of articles and took them, together with Meitner’s notes, to the US Embassy, for transportation to the relevant authorities, via the Embassy bag.
He flew back feeling scared and depressed. War was threatening. If this new form of energy were to be used to make weapons, the West would be at the mercy of the Nazis. Once more he fought the thought that the Third Reich was indeed invincible.
Chapter Thirty-One
It was the dawn of 1939, but in the Bohemian mountains it could have been a century before, or millennium, Marietta thought. Nothing changed here. A narrow country road meandered south through slanting stony fields with patches of snow under hawthorne hedges. Soon the road reached the Upper Vltava Valley, a place of mists and marshes and mystical vistas of wild, haunting beauty. To the right lay calm, grey lakes fringed with snow, with patches of ice on their sullen surfaces. To the left, the Plechy Mountain rose to a sharp, serrated peak. Around the mountain, virgin forests shone white with snow. The only sound was the wind whining through the trees as Andrea and Marietta were driven by Jan towards the Boubin Manor. Jan parked the car by the roadside without being asked. The two girls shivered and eyed each other questioningly. Then, in the distance, they heard singing.
‘Oh!’ Andrea said. ‘How beautiful.’
‘Listen carefully,’ Jan said, ‘It is important that you understand what is happening here.’
Marietta eyed her driver curiously. He had undergone a subtle metamorphose, from humble servant to . . . well . . . what exactly? She wasn’t sure. He was almost a fellow conspirator.
But he knew nothing of their plans, did he? Had he been spying on them?
The singing was coming from the woods, and through a fire break they could see a camp fire, a frozen lake, woodsmoke and meat sizzling – and boys – a hundred or more – were singing with the voices of angels. Their eyes glowed as brightly as the flames in the fire. It would have been idyllic, except that each boy wore the Hitler Youth uniform and held a pole with a swastika hanging from it.
Jan beckoned the girls to leave the fire, and as they walked down the path, their footfalls deadened by a carpet of pine needles, a handsome, bearded man stepped on to an upturned log and began talking to the boys. He looked as if he sprang from the land, a man of courage, with his noble features and blond beard. A Viking! He told them of the glory of the Nazi party and the wonder of their Führer who had been sent to unite them with Germans all over Europe. Toget
her with their blood brothers in Germany they would become the greatest and most powerful race in the world. Soon they would conquer Europe and impose the glorious Nazi New Order wherever they went.
When they’d returned to the car, there was anger in Jan’s eyes. ‘This is how it begins,’ he said. ‘They feel called to a noble cause. They don’t understand that they’re being moulded to serve the Third Reich. This is what we are up against, Countess. Never trust any German-speaking Czech family. They have children . . . as you can see, the children are being contaminated. Trust no one.’
Marietta and Andrea exchanged uneasy glances as they drove on. The two girls, both so different, invariably thought alike, Marietta through her reasoning, Andrea through intuition. Here was another Jan. So who was the stranger they thought they’d known so well?
When they approached the next village, Marietta could not recognise the shops for the mass of swastikas hanging from every window. Bohemia had changed forever, she thought with a heavy heart, I thought it never would.
‘They’re only human, therefore greedy,’ this new Jan said, unexpectedly. ‘When the Sudetenland was annexed, all Czechs of Slav descent were given forty-eight hours to abandon their farms and businesses. They had to leave their cattle, equipment . . . everything they possessed. Volksdeutsche Nazis were rewarded with land and businesses. Rich pickings! Look around, Countess. You’ll see how many of your neighbours are new and German-speaking.’
Jan had never talked, Marietta suddenly realised, merely answered. She experienced a sudden wave of guilt as she acknowledged that she had never had a conversation with him, although she’d virtually grown up with him. She’d always taken his humble attitude for granted. Then anger surged. Which of his two roles portrayed the real Jan?
Later, she felt some of the tension fading as her beloved forests and the neighbouring farms came into view. She leaned out of the window and took deep breaths of the sweet country air.
It was cold, but lovely. They drove on, winding uphill, until they reached the snowbound grassy plateau set amongst the forests that framed Boubin Manor.
*
Leaving Andrea in the safe hands of the housekeeper, Marietta hurried out to find Miki, their groom and gardener, in his cottage hidden amongst the trees. Work was obviously forgotten and Miki was unshaven and dirty, his hands were shaking and he looked like a man in the depths of despair.
‘Sit down and share some wine with me,’ Miki said, with unusual affection, slurring his words. ‘Come! You are a grown woman now, and you can take a drink with me for old time’s sake. D’you remember when I used to take you into the forest to gather cranberries and mushrooms and teach you about the birds and the wild creatures?’
He was maudlin and sentimental. Marietta felt embarrassed. She sipped some wine and tried to pretend that she was enjoying the conversation, but Miki’s fear permeated her soul. She had seen him facing wild boars and bears, or rescuing snarling foxes out of poachers’ traps, but she had never seen him so afraid.
‘What is it? Why are you afraid?’ she asked him gently.
‘He’s a gypsy. Isn’t that enough?’
She jumped as Jan limped in, smiling sadly. ‘There was a gypsy settlement in the forest. I don’t have to tell you that, you knew them well. Last week the troops came and took them all, destroyed the wagons, shot the dogs, set light to the caravans and sent the gypsies to a camp . . . women, babies-in-arms . . . everyone! God knows if any of them are still alive.’
‘On my land?’ She was white with anger.
‘Your land!’ his eyes mocked her. ‘Did you think you were some sort of protector? Like a magic charm. Whatever they see is theirs. Anyway, Boubin is about to be expropriated for the troops, which means von Hesse wants it for himself and his buddies. Didn’t you know?’
‘No! But who are you, Jan?’
He ignored her question. ‘Pastor Perwe asked me to keep an eye on you and Andrea. I am his friend. Remember this, Countess . . . for the duration of the occupation we’re on the same side. You . . . the Pastor . . . and I. You can rely on me to fight the Nazis until my last breath. When it’s over, we shall be on opposite sides.’
‘What do you mean, opposite sides?’
‘I am a Communist.’
The implications made Marietta feel sick. Had he been planted in their home, because Father was the Minister of Austrian Affairs, and had he spied on Father for all those years? How cold he seemed now that the familiar servant’s respect had been put aside.
‘You’ll have to learn to do without this stuff, Miki.’ Jan said. He picked up the stone jar and poured the wine down the sink. ‘You don’t need Dutch courage.’
‘Countess, I shall be staying on in Czechoslovakia, but I will no longer be your servant. I’ve been transferred, but I can help you with your escape chain.’
‘Transferred by whom, what do you mean, Jan?’
‘I’m not free, Countess . . . I obey orders. If you need me, you will be able to contact me through Herr Zweig. He works for you, by the way, although you’ve never taken the trouble to meet him. Here’s a list of contacts for your escape chain. Tell the Pastor you can rely on these people, but they’re only human. God knows what they’d reveal under interrogation. I suggest you spend a part of your holiday meeting them, but be careful. It’s important that you are seen to be having fun, too. Remember that.’
She frowned, realising she had been given an order and that she was at a loss to know how to deal with it.
Why am I such a child? she wondered, blinking back her tears as she hurried back to the house. It was absurd to feel so let down, but someone she’d always thought she’d known no longer existed.
A car was just pulling up in front of the house and when she saw who the driver was her heart lifted. ‘Oh, Bill,’ she cried. ‘Thank goodness you’ve come.’
*
The Count arrived in time for dinner. He sat at the head of the table, listening to the children and feeling old. Louis was a man, at last. He had shown determination over his engagement to Andrea that the Count had never guessed he possessed. Tonight they were lost in each other and clutching hands under the table. And Marietta and Bill were in love.
The children were watching him expectantly, so he stood up and said: ‘Here we are together and I thank God for it. I want to propose a toast in these troubled times. Let the family be our refuge from the madness the Nazis are thrusting on the world. In our home and our hearts we shall preserve all that is moral and sane and decent. To the family!’
At that moment, the maid brought the soup and the family waited in silence for her to leave.
‘Furthermore, I want to propose a toast to the gallant Edelweiss students. To your bravery and your morality. With youth like you, I know that Austria will be saved eventually.’ He smiled, lifted his glass and drank.
‘I’m proud, too, that our brave little tigress, Ingrid, has joined you in taking on the Nazis. Well done, Ingrid. Your bravery has thrilled me, my dear.’
Ingrid flushed.
‘All of you have proved yourself to be thinking, caring persons,’ the Count went on. ‘Nevertheless, I’d like to convince you that there’s no morality in being foolhardy. Be careful, or you may leave yourselves open to savage reprisals.’
‘I know you mean well, dear Uncle,’ Ingrid said, smiling sweetly. ‘But I will not give in.’
‘I’m not asking any of you to give in to the Nazis. We have reached a terrible period in the history of our country. Evil is abroad, contaminating everything it touches. I would never ask my family to sup with the devil. As Christians we must all believe that goodness, justice and love will triumph eventually.
‘At the same time, I implore you all to be careful. Go underground! You can be sure that the SS has a spy in your group. They have their spies in every house. It will be someone you trust. Find out who it is before it’s too late . . .’ He broke off as an unwelcome thought thrust into his mind. Involuntarily his eyes turned to Ingrid. With a lu
rch in his stomach he remembered her regrettable affection and vulnerability to Hugo as a young girl, for which he had always blamed himself. But no! Surely he was being unreasonable. He turned to all of them. Was he contaminated, too . . . suspecting everyone, even his own niece? He decided not to burden Marietta with his fears.
‘Be careful. That’s my message to you.’ He gazed at them each in turn and sighed.
Chapter Thirty-Two
After dinner Louis insisted on dancing, but Marietta excused herself as being exhausted by the journey and retired. After a few minutes’ hesitation Bill followed her and heard muffled sobs as she closed her door. Without a second thought he entered the room behind her.
‘Oh Marie, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Don’t cry. Tell me what’s wrong,’ he said, stroking her neck and her hair.
‘Oh Bill . . . Bill . . . hold me,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m so tired of being strong. I can’t stand it. I thought here, at least, there would always be security and stability, but no one is secure. Miki was so afraid . . . everyone’s becoming “categorised”. The people are trapped here and no one is who they were. Jan is not my friend and servant, but a Communist and he’s been spying on us for years, and the kind German Czechs are rabid and marching and my dear brother, Hugo, is going to expropriate Boubin Manor. Oh God! Where will it all end?’
‘Shh! Don’t cry, darling. Don’t give in now.’
She pushed her face in the pillow. After a while her shoulders stopped shaking, but Bill sat stroking her neck and back. She spoke again. ‘The truth is, I’m frightened. Today I realised that we can’t win. I never believed my countrymen would accept such evil, now I’ve seen that all the power is with the Nazis. We can only fail.’
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