Edelweiss

by Madge Swindells

  ‘Get on with it,’ Hugo grumbled.

  Kova pushed the grid back with his feet.

  ‘Get over there.’ Hugo waved vaguely at the wall.

  Kova rolled to the wall, panting. ‘She’s down on the right, tied to a chair.’

  Hugo bent over the grid. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a sudden movement as Kova lunged his feet towards a switch. Then his head seemed to explode from a massive blow.

  *

  ‘A man on his own has to learn to be inventive, General von Hesse,’ Kova was saying.

  Hugo blinked and shook his head which ached abominably. Where was he? What was happening? Then he remembered and looked around for Marietta, but there was no sign of her. Had he fallen?

  ‘A very tricky device and my own invention. I intend to patent it when things get back to normal. The toughest bull is stunned for at least three minutes, von Hesse. Long enough to cut its throat, but don’t worry, I won’t cut yours.’

  ‘What the hell was the fool prattling about?’ Hugo struggled to sit up, but found that he could not. Anger set in when he saw that Marietta was not here. He had been tricked. His fury dimmed the pain in his head. Then he blacked out again. Minutes later, he sighed and groaned. Then he opened his eyes. It felt as if he’d been hit with a sledge-hammer.

  ‘Are you all right, General von Hesse? Speak to me,’ Kova said, and chuckled.

  Hugo surfaced slowly. The first thing he saw was Kova’s face, only inches from his own. He tried to pull up his hands to push him away, but gasped with pain. Looking down, he saw that he was naked, his feet and hands bound with wire that was cutting into his flesh. His hands were attached to his feet by a wire rope. An ox couldn’t break it. Panic welled up inside him. He was trapped. Looking round in the dim light, he saw that he was in Kova’s obscene cellar, surrounded with stinking carcasses hanging on meat hooks.

  ‘Untie me, Kova, or you’ll never know where your daughter is.’ Hugo hung on to the hope that he could still talk the man round.

  ‘My daughter’s dead, you swine. She hanged herself because you and your men foully abused her, in front of her father. You’re about to pay for that, von Hesse. You’re going to wish you’d never set eyes on my girl, or on me.’

  ‘I was doing a job. It was the war. Don’t you understand? These things are necessary in wartime. You were a traitor. But the war’s over, Kova. We can put all that behind us. I’m a very rich man. We can do a deal.’

  ‘I want you to appreciate the sheer brilliance of my inventiveness . . .’ Kova was saying. ‘I had to be clever, after the troops took my Slav workers for their labour gangs. I was alone. How could I cope with these huge oxen?’

  ‘Kova, untie me. You’ll be well-rewarded, I promise you. Name your price, man.’

  ‘I hit on the idea of a bolt fired from an adjusted crossbow in the roof. All I have to do is to position the beast and kick the switch at the bottom of the wall. The animal is stunned and I can cut its throat without struggle or pain. Did you know that fear and anguish taints the meat? My meat is always sweet and fresh. Yours, on the other hand, will be very tainted.’

  ‘Listen to me, Kova,’ Hugo pleaded. ‘I’m a very rich man. I have ranches in South America. You can have what you want of mine. Think of the lovely girls you can buy.’

  ‘You’ll rot here, von Hesse. It will take you days to die. I’m an expert in death. It’s my trade.’ He bent over Hugo, still laughing. The smell of him was horrible and his spittle landed on Hugo’s mouth.

  Hugo could hardly breathe. It felt as if his chest was being puffed up by gigantic bellows that were bursting his lungs. His throat was constricting, his hands were slippery wet, and it felt as if his head had been staved in. A trickle of warm liquid ran around his neck and he guessed it was blood from the wound.

  Kova lurched towards him, pointing a sharp meathook at him. His expression was deadly.

  ‘Just shoot me,’ Hugo gasped.

  ‘I wouldn’t waste a bullet on shit like you. Normally the carcasses are skinned, von Hesse, and, of course, dead by the time I get to this stage, but in your case I’m changing the routine. You’re only stripped, not skinned. Your skin isn’t worth anything.’ He laughed briefly. ‘Well, here goes. This is how I do it.’

  Hugo felt his head being yanked up by his hair. Gasping with fear, he stiffened his body and hung on, so that he could not be bent forward.

  With a brief, impatient gesture, Kova knocked him sidelong and Hugo fell on to his face. He screamed as he felt the hook prodding his back around his shoulder blade.

  ‘No . . . no . . . no . . .’ he gasped. ‘Don’t . . .’

  The pain was terrible as the sharp steel lunged into his flesh. He screamed again and again as it was pushed home. This couldn’t be happening. It was insane. Only the pain was real. He was dimly aware of Kova pulling on a chain. He screamed again at the tearing agony in his shoulder and his chest. He was being pulled up to a sitting position.

  He passed out again and Kova let him slump back on to the ground. A bucket of cold water brought him to his senses.

  ‘I want you to understand what’s happening,’ Kova said softly. ‘Next I haul up the beasts with my block and tackle.’ Hugo could hear himself screaming, but the sound seemed to come from far away. He was dimly aware of footsteps . . . shouts and shots. The body of his driver fell through the grid, to land beside him. Nothing seemed real except the pain that was consuming him. He had no more strength to scream. He felt he was on the shore of a gigantic lake . . . waves of pain were washing through him.

  ‘That’s better,’ Kova said. ‘There’s no point in screaming, von Hesse. This is no-man’s land. The Czechs have fled, the US troops have retreated, the Germans have gone south and the Russians haven’t arrived yet. Your step-sister, Edelweiss, has gone back to Sokol. I gave her the petrol she needed, you see. She’s a fine woman. You, on the other hand, are a piece of shit. ‘Now, up you go. You can hang there till you rot.’

  Kova pulled at the block and tackle. Hugo felt his muscles and tendons and flesh tearing away in blinding agony, but some held and he was dragged up and up, hanging from the hook, until his feet left the ground and his body hung awkwardly from his dislocated shoulder, revolving slowly in the air. He groaned, unaware of his blood and urine dripping on to the floor until there was a large pool under his feet.

  The pain was more than he thought a man could bear. He was propelled out of time and space into a world he had never known, where a second lasted an eternity. He was only dimly aware that he was swaying backwards and forwards, just like the carcasses around him.

  ‘Sweet dreams, von Hesse,’ he heard. ‘Think of my daughter. It must have been good to rape her. She was a virgin and pretty, too. I bet you enjoyed it. For two pins I’d cut off your prick, but I wouldn’t want you to bleed to death. Too quick by far.’

  Hugo groaned and lapsed into unconsciousness. When he came to he was alone. The agony was all-consuming and he knew that it would never leave him, but only get worse until he died. He’d been told of men put to death on meat hooks in Hitler’s cellar. They’d lived for days, he’d heard.

  Chapter Eighty

  Marietta’s heart was pounding, her mouth was dry and she could scarcely breathe for the lump in her throat as she crossed the bridge over the Vltava River towards her home. The ramparts over the bridge and the east gate were still standing. She could see the swastika flying high above. Well, she would have that down soon enough.

  She knew what to expect. She had been warned by the Resistance wives who had hidden her for the past few days, until the last of the troops and Volksdeutsche refugees had left the area. But it was still a shock. She stood in the courtyard, gazing at her ruined home with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  The East Wing of Sokol Castle was entirely burnt out. The walls had been built to last and they might well remain as they were – blackened and jagged, like ancient, eroded teeth – for the next few centuries, she thought. Bulldozing those walls wo
uld take time and cost a fortune. Marietta waited for a while, biting her lip, until she pulled herself together. Then she crept up the main steps, picking her way across fallen debris and blackened rafters, to the main hall. There was nothing here. The interior was chaotic and dangerous. The roof was half open to the sky and around the gaping hole, half-fallen, sooty rafters, flapped dismally in the wind. The floors were choked with charred lumps of wood and fabric, some still smoking. She guessed that the recent downpour had put out the blaze. Everything was gone . . . the library with its rare manuscripts and books, the paintings, the works of art, the antique furniture, centuries of accumulation of priceless objects had been totally destroyed.

  She wandered from room to room, gazing around fearfully until she reached the older part of the building, where the troops had been stationed, and which had not been touched by the fire.

  Here, Sokol looked what it was, an abandoned army garrison with its cracked and dirty windowpanes, peeling paint and broken doors. Would she ever get it back to normal? The probable cost was intimidating. What viable reason could she find to justify such expenditure? People would need homes, jobs, the country would need communications, industry and all the infrastructure destroyed by the Nazis. They would not need castles, nor works of art. Why should she stay? Why not give them what she had and go? That thought was seductive. Why not?

  Peace would mean many things for many people, but for her, if she stayed, it would mean a lifetime of learning to live without Bill.

  Unless . . .

  She walked along century-old corridors, noting the missing art treasures, the cracked and damaged marble floors, the ruined sculptured ceilings, until she reached the family gallery where many of the portraits remained. She could guess why, too, for most of them were of sentimental value and not worth looting.

  There was a portrait of her grandmother, painted as a young woman, at the end of the gallery. She was dressed in a black riding habit and sitting side-saddle on a white stallion. What would grandmother do now, she wondered, gazing long and wistfully at the painting?

  Marietta was startled by the sound of heavy vehicles rumbling across the bridge into the courtyard. Running to the window, she saw a convoy of German lorries move swiftly to the main door. Her stomach knotted until she noticed the red stars painted over the swastikas. A bunch of ragged Czech partisans, led by Jan, tumbled out of the lorries. They looked exhausted.

  Hurrying outside, she saw Jan was taking the steps in leaps and bounds. His face was stern, his eyes bleak and unforgiving.

  ‘Countess, I salute you for your patriotism and your courage. You are a brave woman. But you should understand that I cannot guarantee your safety when the Russians get here.’

  She flushed angrily. ‘I’m a patriot, as you are. I fought as hard as you did.’

  Jan took her arm and led her away from his men. He flashed a badge at her. She read: General Jan Zykov, The Czech People’s Liberation Army. ‘For the time being, I’m in charge here,’ he said quietly. ‘But who knows if I’ll survive the post-war upheaval. It’s bound to be rough. You must trust me one more time, as you always have done. You are the daughter of a Nazi who was given a hero’s funeral . . .’

  ‘You know the truth of the matter,’ she retorted angrily.

  ‘Don’t waste time, my friend. You are the step-sister of a known war criminal who ran the Reich security from your home. Furthermore you, and certain Allied agents, conspired to deprive the Soviets of the nuclear and missile research in Richard’s Mine. I’ve come here to warn you only because we were comrades. And there’s another reason. I admire you too much to see you throw your life away for some absurd sense of duty. We fought together for ideals, not possessions. There was a difference, you’ll agree. Please believe me, Marietta, it’s time to go. Besides, most of your estates will be appropriated within two to three years. There’s no future for you here. Believe me.’

  ‘Yes . . . of course,’ she said, in a small, tired voice. ‘Strange, but I had thought I would be needed. I want to be alone for a few minutes, please.’ Not wanting Jan to see her bitterness, she turned and walked slowly back to the gallery.

  ‘So there you have it, Grandmother,’ she said, looking up earnestly. ‘I wasn’t a very good link in the chain after all. We are passing into history . . . you and I.’

  She felt puzzled and a little lost. All her life, she’d been hemmed in by responsibility and protocol and the burden of being a great heiress, a Habsburg and of royal blood. Like a fool, she had only considered her loss, not her gain. She sat on, frowning as she considered her situation.

  ‘So what now?’ she said, looking up sadly. ‘What next?’ Her grandmother’s painted features gave her no reply.

  There was nothing left to do. ‘I’m free!’ she whispered, feeling uncertain and lonely.

  The old empty walls echoed back her words: ‘Free . . . free . . free . . .’ Free to marry Bill!

  She stood up, now strangely light-headed. ‘Free!’ She tried out the word again to see if it felt real.

  The portraits of her ancestors seemed to be watching her disapprovingly. ‘It’s no good blaming me,’ she said. ‘I have no choice in this matter. You may gather dust here, which is fine for you, since you are only portraits and old bones down in the mausoleum. But I am alive. I lust for life . . . and for happiness,’ she added solemnly. ‘And it has been a long time coming to me.’

  She heard Jan running down the passage, calling her name. He caught hold of her arm and pulled her towards the hall.

  ‘Please . . . hurry. Soviet troops are close by. Roth has arrived to fetch you. I couldn’t let him in . . . I don’t want my men to see him. He’s waiting across the bridge. Here’s a safe conduct for both of you. Go south . . . it will be safer, but go quickly. I’ll send an armed escort with you.’

  She hugged him, laughing at his shocked expression. Turning, she ran along dusty corridors and burst into the sunlight. High above, on the castle ramparts, she could see the Czechs hauling down the Nazi flag, but she hardly spared them a glance.

  The sky was dazzling, birds were singing, fish were leaping in the gurgling river, and her heart leapt with them. A strange feeling was growing inside her, making her want to laugh and cry at the same time. ‘Bill . . .’ she called. ‘Bill . . .’

  There he was . . . sitting in a jeep, parked across the river. He was heavily bandaged and he looked grey with fatigue, but his eyes lit up when he saw her. Marietta raced across the bridge without looking back. The past had no meaning for her any more. They would create their own home and their own future on the firm foundation of their love.

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