The Defeated Aristocrat (5 page)

‘Wilhelm, Paul …’

‘They volunteered.’

‘Idiots. Are they all right?’

‘They survived. They were sent to the Russian border in 1917. As the Russians were too busy fighting each other to attack us then, the twins had an easier time than you and Peter.’

‘They’re back?’

‘Martin made them re-enrol in the university. Wilhelm’s supposed to be studying architecture, Paul law, but from what I’ve heard most of their studying seems to be in beer cellars. Liesl’s in Allenstein. She’s training to be a nurse and living in nurses’ quarters in the hospital there.’

‘You’ve seen them?’

‘In Gebaur Strasse. Liesl spent Christmas with Martin. The twins are having trouble settling down.’

‘That’s not surprising after being in the trenches.’ Whichever way Wolf turned, the responsibility that came with being head of the family lurked, waiting to crush him.

‘So, now you’re back, you’ll turn Franz and Gretel off the estate and out of the castle?’

‘Even if I could, I’m not sure I want to.’

Martha’s eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t mean that. You’re the eldest. The estate is your birth right. It doesn’t just belong to you and the von Maus. Dozens of families have served you, your father, and your ancestors faithfully for centuries. They’re entitled to more consideration and better treatment than Franz is meting out.’

‘After five years of making decisions that killed men, including my friends, all I want is peace and quiet.’

‘You won’t find a more peaceful or quieter place than Lichtenhagen.’

‘Here, I’ll have the responsibility of providing wages and food for the workers. That’s not going to be easy given the mess Germany’s in. Why is Martin living in Konigsberg?’

‘He didn’t let his weak eyes and club foot get in the way of his studies. He qualified as a doctor two years ago. He married last year. You’ll like Ludwiga. She’s a nurse, a few years older than Martin but a thoroughly good woman and, more importantly, good for him. They’re renting the house in Gebaur Strasse. Martin has set up a practice there.’

‘Renting? From who?’

‘Franz.’

‘Franz is charging our brother rent for a family property!’ For the first time in years Wolf felt anger. The sensation was so unexpected he didn’t recognise it at first.

‘If you want help to tackle Franz, I’m your man.’ Peter leaned against the door.

Still angry, Wolf retorted, ‘I can sort out my brother, but thank you for offering.’

‘I’m leaving for Konigsberg first thing tomorrow to ask for my job back.’

‘Pippi told you?’ Martha asked him.

‘Yes.’

‘Told you what?’ Wolf knew from the way Peter and Martha were looking at one another the news wasn’t good.

‘It’s your sister Lotte’s husband,’ Martha began. ‘He returned last November. I know the front was terrible, but it hasn’t been easy here. Anton’s father went bankrupt and lost everything last summer.’

‘The estate … the house … the farms?’ Wolf was shocked. Anton’s father’s estate had been twice the size of Lichtenhagen.

‘Everything,’ Martha reiterated. ‘He couldn’t stand the disgrace so he shot himself. The bank evicted Lotte, the children, and her mother-in-law. Lotte asked Franz if they could come here, he refused, but Martin and Ludwiga offered them a home in Gebaur Strasse. Anton returned two days after his mother died. Martin said it was a heart attack. Broken heart more like it, in my opinion. As Anton had no prospect of finding work Pippi’s father arranged for him to join the police …’ Martha faltered and struggled to get the words out. ‘Anton was murdered.’

Wolf recalled the newspaper articles. ‘When?’

‘They found his body last Saturday. I’m sorry, Wolf, this is a poor homecoming. First Gretel and Franz. Now this. I know you liked Anton,’ Martha sympathized.

‘He was a good brother-in-law, friend, and comrade. He fought bravely.’

‘Anton would have been with us when we were captured if he’d been fit enough to leave the field hospital,’ Peter observed.

‘If he had, he’d have come home with us today.’

‘Pippi and I paid a condolence visit as soon as we heard,’ Martha continued. ‘Lotte’s taken it hard. She and the girls will be glad to see you, Wolf.’

“The girls” – his nieces Karin and Christa would be six and eight. ‘When is the funeral?’

‘A week tomorrow. A German even has to queue to get buried these days, and not only because the ground’s hard to dig because of this frost. So many people are dying from cold and hunger the pastors are hard pressed to keep up with demand for their services.’

‘We’ll go together, Wolf. I’ll let the others know. They’ll all want to be there. It’s so damned unfair …’

‘I’ll have none of your soldier’s language in this house or in front of the children,’ Martha admonished Peter.

‘Sorry,’ Peter apologised.

Wolf rose from the bench. ‘I have to see Lotte.’

Martha glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘There won’t be another train into the city until morning. After the funeral you should both stay here. Rest, take it easy, allow Pippi and me to fatten you up.’

‘I need to start earning so I can buy Pippi, you, and the children new clothes,’ Peter countered.

‘There’s nothing in the shops at prices people can afford. The country’s…’

‘Bankrupt? Defeated?’ Peter broke in. ‘Wolf and I know. We’re the ones who lost the war.’ He gripped Pippi’s hand. Her arms were wrapped around his waist as if she was afraid to let him go. Their children and Heinrich were behind her. ‘Whatever we decide, it’s too late to do anything tonight other than eat and sleep, Wolf.’

‘I stoked the fire under the boiler in the wash house earlier to bathe the children. They can wait until tomorrow. Why don’t you two use the hot water while Pippi and I make you cutlets with sauerkraut, fried potatoes, and onions?’

‘Mother, you’re a genius.’ Peter kissed Martha.

‘You have cutlets?’ Wolf asked.

‘Boar cutlets. Gunther went out hunting with the men two days ago.’

‘There’s potato soup to start and apple cakes in the pantry that I made yesterday from the last in the hay loft.’ Pippi shook her head at Peter and Wolf. ‘You’re filthy. Those uniforms are beyond salvaging. I’ll air the clothes you left, Peter. I should find something that will fit both of you.’

‘I have my own clothes in the castle,’ Wolf reminded.

‘After five years in storage they’ll be damp, Wolf. Do you want me to look for them?’ Martha asked.

‘They can wait.’

‘Mine should fit you,’ Peter observed.

‘Not length-wise, and width-wise only if he tightens the trouser belt. As you will have to, Peter. I’ve never seen such skinny, hungry-looking men.’ Martha ruffled her son’s hair.

‘Go, both of you. By the time you finish, the meal will be ready.’ Pippi went into the kitchen and began rattling pots and pans.

‘Be sure you kill every stray louse and flea. I don’t want to find any on the children. Here.’ Martha took a bottle from the storeroom in the passageway and gave it to Wolf. ‘The best cognac. I saved it for your return.’

Half the size of the barn, the wash house held a massive three-foot-deep stone sink. Wolf’s father used to joke that it had been built to wash the cows. Next to it was a wood-burning, iron boiler filled by a pump connected to a well. As the sink was large enough to hold the weekly wash for the castle, half a dozen adults or double the number of children, the wash house was used by everyone, servant and master alike.

The water was bubbling. Peter raked out the fire beneath the boiler, pushed in the wooden plug that sealed the sink, and opened the brass tap. Water gushed out in noisy spurts and steam filled the air when he pumped in cold water to temper the hot. He breathed in and Wolf sensed he was bracing himself for unpleasantness.

‘Wolf, have you thought …’

‘If you’re going to tell me to talk to Gretel, forget it.’

‘Your son …’

‘Your mother’s invited him to supper.’

‘But …’

‘I couldn’t give a damn about Gretel.’ Wolf had hoped to fool Peter but his friend knew him too well.

‘You’re just putting on a brave face.’

‘After seeing Gretel with Franz, all I feel is relief that she’s no longer my responsibility.’

‘If Pippi …’

‘You and Pippi had five years together, Gretel and I not even two years. Do you know what I remember most about that time? Trying to avoid her. Which is why I organised so many men-only hunting parties.’

‘You don’t love her?’

‘If I ever did, I don’t now.’

‘It’s battle fatigue. The responsibility of caring for so many men. Now you’re home you’ll soon start feeling normal again.’ Peter stripped off the last of his clothes, lowered himself into the steaming sink, and reached for a bar of carbolic soap.

Wolf was half-undressed when there was a banging on the door.

‘It’s Pippi. I’ve brought clothes for you and Peter.’

He pulled his trousers back on and opened the door.

‘Shut it quick,’ Peter shouted when a draught of freezing air sliced in from outside.

Wolf took the bundle from Pippi and saw Franz hovering around the porch of the castle. He closed the washhouse door and thrust the bolt home, but that didn’t deter Franz. He crossed the yard and hammered on the door.

‘Wolf, I need to talk to you.’

Wolf finished undressing and climbed into the sink opposite Peter.

‘Can we talk?’ Franz demanded. ‘If not now, when you come out?’

Wolf lay back in the water.

‘Aren’t you going to answer him?’ Peter asked when Franz persisted in shouting.

‘No.’

Peter grabbed a scrubbing brush. When he finished washing he ducked his head under water. He was rubbing soapsuds into his hair when Franz finally fell silent. ‘Peace, perfect peace.’ Peter rinsed himself off, handed Wolf the soap, climbed out of the sink, dried and dressed. ‘Pippi and Martha will have the meal ready.’

Wolf luxuriated in the steaming water and closed his eyes. ‘I’ll be out in a few minutes.’

‘You’re there for the next half hour.’ Peter picked up an enamel jug and held it below the pump.

‘Tip cold water over me and it will be the last thing you do.’

‘If you’re not out in two minutes I’ll send Pippi and Martha in.’ Peter unbolted the door and banged the door shut behind him.

It had been years since Wolf had been able to soak his entire body in a bath. Wondering why French bathtubs were so small, he kept his eyes closed as he surfaced.

‘Wolf?’

Gretel was standing in front of the sink.

CHAPTER FIVE

Lichtenhagen, Friday January 10th 1919

Silence hung as suffocating as the steam in the cold air while Wolf and Gretel continued to stare at one another.

‘You wouldn’t talk to Franz,’ she reproached.

‘I have nothing to say to him.’ Wolf reached for a towel.

‘He’s your brother.’

‘You were my wife but I feel strangely disconnected from both of you.’

She stepped closer to the sink.

‘Given the circumstances I don’t think you should be here.’

‘I love you, Wolf. I’m your wife …’

‘Wife?’ He reached for a towel and wiped his face. ‘You’re carrying my brother’s child.’

‘I would never have married Franz if I’d thought there was the slightest chance you were alive.’

‘In which case you would have had his bastard as you were pregnant when you married him?’

‘Martha couldn’t wait to spread her poisonous gossip.’

‘Where’s the poison and where’s the gossip? Martha’s never told a lie in her life.’

‘You’ve been away for years …’

‘Not by choice, Gretel. They shoot officers who desert in wartime.’

‘Take me back.’

‘With Franz’s child?’

‘I’ll farm it out.’

‘Farm it out?’ He repeated. ‘That’s Franz’s son and heir you’re talking about.’ Realisation dawned. ‘Of course. That’s why you’re here. And why Franz wanted to talk to me. Son and heir – the castle – the estate. My father left it to me, and to your annoyance, I’m alive. I can evict you and Franz.’

‘I love you …’

‘Spare yourself and me the embarrassment of your lies and pleading, Gretel, and the further embarrassment of seeing me naked.’ He held the towel in front of him as he rose from the water.

‘It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen you unclothed.’

‘Given your condition that reminder is ridiculous. Are you going to leave? Or do I have to call for Martha to protect me?’

Gretel opened the door, but not before she’d made sure he’d seen the tears in her eyes.

Wolf remained unmoved. ‘Tell Franz I want to see the bank accounts and bank statements tonight. His own and your personal accounts, as well as the estate’s.’

‘I know you saw Heini earlier but it’s time you were formally introduced. You won’t remember him, but this is your father, Heini. Wolf, your son.’ Martha stepped back so they could look at one another.

‘Please to meet you, sir.’ Heini, hands and face scrubbed clean, hair slicked flat with a comb and water, bowed, clicked his heels, and held out his hand.

Wolf shook it and noticed the bruises on Heinrich’s left cheek and right wrist. Someone had held the boy fast and slapped his head. Heinrich noticed that he was studying him. Wolf tried to conceal his concern. ‘Aunt Martha tidied you up for supper?’

‘She did, sir.’

‘You don’t have to call me “sir”. I’m your Papa, Heinrich, and I’m pleased to meet you too.’ Martha was right. The boy did look like him.

Pippi bustled in from the kitchen. ‘Sit, eat.’ She pulled a bench out for the children.

When Peter and Wolf saw the bottled sauerkraut, mushrooms, and beans they knew Pippi and Martha had raided hoarded stocks to produce the meal, but neither of them could do the food justice. Between the excitement of their homecoming and exhaustion from the journey they were too tired to eat.

Wolf caught Heinrich looking at him a few times during the meal but the boy remained subdued, in contrast to Peter’s children who never stopped talking.

‘Can Papa read us our bedtime story?’ Peter’s eldest, young Peter, demanded, after the dishes had been cleared.

‘He and Mama can both read you stories. Would you like to stay the night, Heini?’ Martha asked.