Chapter Four

Trials

Peter Robinson: August 1937

‘You, Mister Parnell, are a horrible little man. What are you?’

Warrant Officer Drake bellowed this statement directly into Danny Parnell's ear. Danny cringed before dutifully replying, ‘I am a horrible little man, warrant officer.’

Warrant Officer Drake was the living embodiment of the vicious drill sergeant. His job was to break new recruits until they jumped to his tune. Poor Danny was typical of those victimized by men such as Drake, being unsure of himself, as well as chronically disorganized. ‘Ten laps of the oval, now!’

Danny jogged off with his awkward gait. I breathed a sigh of relief. Now Drake had selected a victim he was likely to ease up on the rest of us. ‘Mister Robinson! If you're going to be so cocky you can join him! Ten laps, now!’

‘Yes Warrant Officer.’

I kicked myself for allowing the trace of expression that must have given me away. I hurried to catch up to Danny. He panted at me ‘It's beastly unfair, I wasn't late for parade.’

‘No, but you were the last onto the ground, that’s enough for him.’

‘I shall punch him on the nose if he picks on me again.’

I felt a sense of alarm. He sounded just about desperate enough to be serious. ‘You will not! You'd end up in the Glasshouse. Besides you only have to put up with him for another two weeks and we move on to flying school.’

‘I don't know if I can endure him, even for two weeks.’

‘Of course you can, look on it as a test of character. You know, once more into the breach, stiff upper lip and all that.’

He focused on running for a moment before puffing again, ‘Thanks Pete, I don't know how I'd survive OCTU without you.’

‘Rubbish, you'd cope just like the rest of us, because you want to get through to flying training.’

He did not reply, perhaps because he needed his breath for running.

Ebert Gausel: August 1937

As the wind got up, our little sailing dingy leapt across the deep blue of the Bodensee. It heeled over as I turned to run with the wind, foam splashing and chattering around the bows. Katharina laughed with the joy of the day and leant right out over the side, to counter the heeling boat. Arching her back she let one hand trail in the water, her golden hair streaming out in the wind like a glorious banner.

For two days now we had been learning to sail. At last, after turning the dingy over again and again we were beginning to find the trick of balancing wind, water and wood. Now with growing confidence, I took us arching away from the Lindau harbor venturing further out toward the distant Swiss mountains, beyond the far shore.

Katharina turned to me, and still laughing, shouted something that was snatched away in the breeze. Somehow she leant back still further and dipped her hair into the flashing water. Up she came and flicked her hair.

A rainbow shone briefly in the spray of droplets before blowing away in the wind. She laughed again and leant back further, then with a squeal of laughter, she was off and into the water.

With a cry of alarm I turned to look back. Katharina's still laughing face surfaced behind me. I swung the tiller over and turned to begin dropping the sail. With the sail half down I realized I would need it to tack back toward Katharina. I looked back again and to my horror saw her head was just a golden blob on the water already several hundred meters away. I turned the boat fully into the wind and began pulling up the sail again, all the time looking at Katharina.

With the sail up again, I began a slow tack towards her. With relief, I saw she was swimming strongly in my direction. A couple of short tacks and I drew level with her.

She was still laughing as she climbed into the boat. ‘Well, that was one swim I didn't intend to take.’

I was not yet over my fright. ‘I don't think you realize how much danger you were in.’

Her reproach was gentle, ‘Oh Ebi, you sound like my father.’

‘What would you have done if I couldn't have got back to you?’

‘I would swim to the shore.’

I stated with a growing sense of alarm, ‘It must be five kilometers.’

‘I doubt it, it is only about five kilometers due south from Lindau to the Austrian shore and ten south west to Switzerland, and we are closer to home here than either of those.’

‘Even if it is two or three you could drown.’

She was scornful at this, her brow cocked quizzically, ‘Why would I drown? I've swum over twenty kilometers in a pool, to see how far I could go.’

Now I made a mistake, I attempted to be the mature voice of reason. ‘Yes, yes, I know you’re an athlete, but you're a runner not a swimmer, and a pool is very different from open water.’

‘I know my limits better than you do Ebi, and I don't like being treated like a child.’

‘I'm sorry, but I think you’re being foolish.’

She flared up at that, flushing red, her eyes blazing. ‘I'm being foolish am I? Why don't we see? I'll swim to Altenrhein in Switzerland right now. It's only ten kilometers, I bet I get there before you do in this silly boat! You'll probably tip over and drown yourself without my help!’

‘Now you really are being childish. Stop it! You're frightening me, what you’re suggesting is dangerous.’

She drew breath to shout again, then she saw my anxious expression and shut her mouth with a snap. She very pointedly sat down with her back to me and said coldly, ‘You can take me back to the harbor now. I am going back to the hotel, and if you think you’re sharing my room tonight, then think again.’

I felt a real sense of anguish, as she no doubt intended. ‘Don't be like that, I just snapped because you frightened me.’

She turned halfway back to me, ‘So you're sorry you were cruel?’

I put on a puppy dog expression, ‘Very sorry.’

‘And you apologize without reservation?’

I slid down to the bottom of the boat, ‘I apologize on bended knee.’

She swung around and hugged my head to her chest, kissing me on the hair. ‘My Ebi, I love you.’

‘I love you as well, even if you do make me look at your sweet little nipple through your wet blouse.’

She pushed me away with mock disgust, ‘Ebi, you really are horrible.’

I rolled over and woke up. Katharina was not in the bed next to me. Almost every morning, no matter how late we went to sleep she went out in the early light for a run. If I woke in time to get ready I would run with her, but she never deliberately woke me. I looked at my watch, it was after seven, I really had slept in. Katharina would probably be back for her shower and breakfast any moment.

I showered, dressed and made my way down to the dining room where I decided to have a coffee while I waited. I drank my coffee and a second, but Katharina had still not appeared. ‘Herr Gausel?’

‘Yes, that’s me.’

‘There is a telephone call for you.’

‘Gausel speaking.’

‘Ebi, is that you?’

‘Katharina, where are you? I was just beginning to wonder what had happened to you.’

‘The very nice Swiss police inspector says he will have to arrest me if you can't bring me my passport.’

‘The… what did you say?’

‘I said the very nice Swiss policeman wants you to bring me my passport.’

‘What does a Swiss policeman have to do with anything?’

‘Well, I was angry with you again this morning, so I decided to swim over to Switzerland instead of going for my run.’

‘You swam to Switzerland.’

‘You aren't cross with me are you?’

‘You swam to Switzerland!’

‘You are cross with me.’

‘No I'm not cross, I just can't believe you've swum all the way to Switzerland.’

‘Well you didn't believe me yesterday, so I thought I should just prove you wrong.’

Sometimes there seems to be no option other than capitulation, ‘Where is your passport?’

‘Just in my small leather valise. And Ebi, the inspector says the next ferry is at nine o'clock. And Ebi, you should bring me some clothes to wear back on the ferry, I don't think the inspector wants me to swim home.’

Chapter Three

Encounter

Ebert Gausel: June 1937

On the next Thursday, I was returning to my office after a meeting at Amt. IV when, quite by chance, I saw her again. As I passed the English Teahouse, I saw a large car pull up in front of the entrance. A young woman and an old man climbed from the car. My heart skipped a beat as I realized it was the Princess. I stood entranced and watched as they went in.

I had watched with frustration for the rest of the evening as she had danced with stranger after stranger. I had snatched a few words with her during a break. She had been friendly, but she was unable to really talk as she was surrounded by a press of would be admirers. Finally, when Adalheid had had enough, I was dragged away. I had been unable to talk with the Princess again. I had played ‘what if’ games with myself ever since, and had simply not been able to get that fascinating girl out of my mind.

I stood on the curb opposite the teahouse and reflected on what to do. I was ridiculously captivated by her, but who would not be? She was an exceptionally attractive girl. Yet, I also had the impression she had enjoyed herself as well. There had been a strong hint of something more than mere politeness from her. I didn't want to leave it there, but I was not sure of the best approach. I did not want to ruin things by acting too hastily, but after a moment of anguish, I decided I might never get another chance to speak to her. I had nothing to loose, so I crossed the road and went into the teahouse.

The tearoom was almost empty. The Princess and the old man were seated at a table near the front window. With my heart beating like a kettledrum, I went straight across to them. ‘Good morning.’

Two pairs of eyes looked up at me: the older looked surprised and then manifested an apparent displeasure or perhaps distaste; the younger registered similar surprise and then smiled warmly. ‘Oh, hello Ebert.’

I felt a warm surge of pleasure at the thought she had troubled to remember my name.

‘Yes Princess, Ebert Gausel.’

‘I didn't realize you were in the SS, Ebert.’

‘Yes, I am an old hand, I joined in '31.’

‘Really?’

Her father, for father he no doubt was, interrupted. He clearly wanted to be rid of me. ‘Perhaps, if Herr Gausel would like to state his business, we can order our tea.’

She looked uneasily at her father before looking back to me, ‘Please go on, Ebert.’

I was furious. How dare he treat me with such contempt. I clicked my heels and bowed to the old man. ‘I am sorry for any inconvenience to you sir. Princess, I apologize, I didn't mean to interrupt, I just wanted to say sorry for my prank last Friday night. Good day sir, goodbye Princess.’

Seething, I turned and strode out through the door without looking back.

Out on the street I was stopped by a call, ‘Ebert!’

I turned back. She stood as if unsure she had done the right thing in following me out. My anger drifted away like gossamer on the wind, ‘Princess?’

She came closer almost hesitantly, ‘I am sorry about my father, he is not normally so rude.’

I smiled. For her I was willing to forgive anyone's transgressions. ‘He must feel obliged to protect you from the attentions of any number of rogues.’

‘Yes, he thinks so,’ she gazed through the window towards her father before looking at me, ‘I enjoyed dancing with you, Ebert.’

‘It was my pleasure.’

The next was almost hesitant, ‘Would you like to take me dancing?’

I felt a surge of jubilation, ‘I would love to, but when?’

‘Tomorrow, can we go tomorrow night?’

‘Of course, I would love to.’

She smiled, unexpectedly excited, ‘How fun! Pick me up at the Brunnenstadt post office at seven.’

She stepped forward and kissed my cheek, ‘Now I must go and sooth Daddy's ruffled feathers.’

She turned and left me, my cheek burning from the gentle caress of her lips, standing on the street.

I finished work on time and rushed back to the barracks to change. After some deliberation I threw an extra change of clothes into a bag and put that together with some walking boots in my car's trunk.

After an hour-long drive from Munich I arrived in Brunnenstadt. I had not been into the town before and I was impressed. It had clearly been a wealthy town, its main streets lined with imposing Baroque and Rococo limestone houses and shops. The Brunnenstadt Post Office was a lovely nineteenth century sandstone building in Baroque style. I arrived only a bare ten minutes early and parked my car around the corner. I strolled as casually as I could around to the front of the building. It was as I waited on the stairs I realized how nervous I was. I had not experienced anything like that level of anxiety over an assignation since my teens.

It seemed like an age that I waited and I happened to be looking in the wrong direction when she arrived. I had no idea where she would come from. ‘Ebert?’

I almost jumped with surprise. She was wearing the same blue gown she had worn at the dance the week before, and like then she was simply stunning. In an oddly charming manner she was holding her shoes in her hand, ‘Princess,’ I said

She smiled a half smile, ‘You can't call me Princess all the time, use Katharina instead.’

‘Katharina?’

‘My second name, it seems less pompous and more German than Victoria. My daddy calls me Victoria Chesterfield, but I prefer Katharina von Brunnenstadt.’

‘You look beautiful whatever you want to be called.’

She didn't seem to be entirely amused with the compliment. She bent to pull on one of her shoes, ‘So, are you going to take me dancing?’

‘Yes, I would love to, but dinner first?’

I watched entranced as she slipped her other shoe on, before looking back up at me, ‘Yes, please.’

I led her over to my little car and held open the door. She settled herself carefully, pulling her gown clear of the door as I closed it. I hurried around, climbing behind the wheel. Before I started the motor she laid her hand on my sleeve, ‘Ebert?’

She gazed into my eyes. I felt I was loosing myself in the depths of hers, ‘Yes Katharina.’

‘Do you remember the second time we met, when you played the trick on that poor boy?’

‘How could I not?’

‘You teased me and laughed at me, and perhaps with me.’

‘Yes, I didn't offend you, did I?’

‘No, quite the opposite, but the point was that you hadn't realized my status.’

‘No, I hadn't.’

‘And if you had, would you have behaved that way?’

‘No, probably not, but why?’

‘You were relaxed... and funny and fun, because you thought I was simply a girl.’

‘Not just a girl! A very beautiful girl, but also your reaction to me the first time we met had me intrigued.’

‘I see, but you weren't at all deferential, you felt comfortable enough to laugh at me.’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Would it be too much to ask you to forget I am a princess, to forget my wealth and rank for a night and just take Katharina, a girl from Brunnenstadt, out dancing?’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I enjoyed those few moments on that dance floor and I would like to do it again.’

I smiled wickedly, ‘So you want me to forget you are a rich, beautiful princess?’

‘Yes.’

‘I am sorry it is just too hard, we are going to have to find a paper bag for you to wear over your head. Then I might have a chance.’

‘Don't be ridiculous,’ for a moment I thought I had gone too far, but then she smiled playfully, ‘a pillowcase is much less likely to blow off in the car.’

She laughed gleefully, a magic sound that set my heart racing, ‘Ebi Gausel, you horrible man, take me to Munich for dinner and dancing this instant.’

I knocked the car into neutral and coasted to a halt on the verge of the road. We had literally danced the night away and now in the early hours I was driving her home. Katharina, half asleep and resting her head contentedly on my shoulder, mumbled. ‘Why have we stopped?’

‘Look at the sky, the sun is about to come up.’

I had stopped on the lip of the Brunnen Valley. Now I had shut off the motor, there was no sound except the click of cooling metal from the car and very faintly in the distance a dog barking. Below us lay a sea of early morning mist. The spire of a church standing like some rock in the sea, the only sign that below lay a town, just beginning to stir. Katharina sat up and stretched before resting her head back on my shoulder. As we sat and watched, a sliver of silver shone through the mist on the far side of the valley. Surprisingly quickly it grew and became a pale disk shining through the mist. Katharina whispered, ‘I wanted last night to never end. But this dawning of a new day, with you, is magical too.’

Suddenly the mist parted and the golden glory of the sun caused us to turn our faces from the view. Her eyes, bluer than the sky above, shone with joy as they gazed into mine. I leant forward and gently kissed her lips, before pulling away. She sat with her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted. I gently kissed those wonderful lips again. This time she responded, at first hesitantly kissing me back, but then she brought her hand up to my cheek and began passionately kissing me. Then sighing, she leant back against the seat. I began a gentle shower of kisses across her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, lingering over her lips, before gently caressing the soft curve of her throat with my lips. With an inward groan, I kissed her once more on the cheek before sitting up. For an instant she lay there as if spellbound, then her eyelids fluttered open, ‘Ebi?’

I caressed her face with my fingertip, drawing it delicately across her cheek, ‘I might have forgotten you are a Princess, but I can't forget you’re just a girl, it's time to take you home.’

She took my hand in both of hers and gently kissed it before hugging it to her chest. ‘I think you are the most wonderful man I have ever met.’

‘Har, har, me hearties, Cap'n Gausel's ploy is working, the beautiful princess is beginning to trust him.’

‘Oh, stop it!’

I kissed her cheek and started the car.

My little car crept through the mist that still lay over the town. It was quiet and still, apart from a few early risers. Following Katharina's directions, I drove through the square before turning off the main road. Taking this side road out of town, we soon came to an impressive double wrought iron gate that stood open. To both sides a high stone wall receded out of sight into the mist. I drove through, past a gatekeeper's lodge and followed the road. Finally, as I came to the top of a rise, the mist lifted and I caught sight of Katharina's home. A magnificent domed and turreted fairytale palace, stood shining in the morning light. In the forecourt two huge fountains danced and splashed a fluid poetry of foam.

I brought the car to another halt. ‘I am afraid we are going to need that pillowcase again.’

Katharina chuckled, ‘Why?’

‘All of a sudden I am finding it hard to forget you are a rich, beautiful princess.’

‘You are wicked, drop me by the front stairs.’

Despite the early hour a footman had Katharina's door open almost before the car came to a halt. She turned as if to climb out, but suddenly turning back, ‘Wait, Ebi, don't come in now. Daddy will be cross and it will be easier if you aren't here.’

I felt momentary alarm, ‘When will I see you again?’

‘Tonight, will you take me dancing again tonight?’

‘I would love to.’

‘Good.’

She leant over and gave me a lingering kiss, then she laughed and slipped out of the car. ‘Pick me up here, at seven. Off you go, but don't forget to bring a pillowcase for tonight!’

She sprang up a few steps before turning to blow me a kiss. I started the car and drove away. She was still waving as I drove over the rise in the road and out of sight.

She was on the stairs when I pulled my little Opel to a halt. I was about to get out to open the door for Katharina, but a footman materialized and beat me to it. She slipped into the seat and leaned over to kiss my cheek, ‘Hello, Ebi.’

‘Hello Princess.’

‘Ebi, you promised.’

‘Did I? Oh I am sorry, no pillowcase you see.’

She laughed, ‘Ebi.’

I went on, trying to keep a straight face, ‘You see, driving up to this wonderful building it becomes impossible to forget I am picking up a princess, but I entirely forgot a pillowcase or a flour bag even.’

I reached behind my seat and handed her a small tissue paper wrapped object, ‘Perhaps this will do the trick?’

She tore it open, ‘Ebi, it’s lovely.’

She shook out a blue, hand-painted, Chinese-silk, scarf I had found in Munich. I wanted to bring her a present, but had struggled to think of something. How does a person on wages pick a present for an heiress? The solution was simple, something pretty, unusual, or quirky, something not necessarily expensive but right for the moment. Laughing she draped the scarf lightly over her face, ‘There does that do?’

‘Katharina, I recognize you now, how nice to see you.’

Lifting the edge of the silk, she leaned forward kissing my lips.

Chapter Two

The Dance

Ebert Gausel: June 1937
Adalheid pouted, her pretty face creasing into a frown, ‘See, I told you, we've missed the start.’
‘Addie, I already said, it's not my fault, Trinkhaus hadn't finished the reports I needed.’
‘It's still disappointing.’
‘You should have asked Gus to bring you.’
Her frown deepened, clearly that suggestion barely deserved a response. ‘You know very well August hates dancing. Besides, if there is one thing you are good at, it's giving a girl a good time on the dance floor.’ She craned her neck trying to see through the doorway, ‘I can't see anything.’
We were standing in a queue on the stairs leading up to a Munich ballroom, ‘No one can, but there's no rush now, the first dance has already started.’
Despite Addie's impatience, and the line, I felt a warm glow of contentment. It was nice to be alone with her after so much time apart. I restrained myself from laughing out loud. At twenty seven Addie looked as excited about this ball as she had been about ballet lessons at seven.
We finally reached the ticket booth. ‘That will be thirty Reichsmarks,’ said the bored looking girl behind the glass.
‘Thirty?’ My contentment vanished with a sense of alarm, my budget was already stretched for the month. ‘That's five times the normal price.’
‘Look at the posters, love, tonight is a charity event.’
‘Yes, look Ebi,’ said Addie her face beaming excitedly, ‘it's the 'Princess Marie von Brunnenstadt Memorial Ball. The guest of honor is her daughter, the Princess Victoria.’
‘But thirty Reichsmarks! Is Bavarian Royalty worth thirty Reichsmarks?’
‘Ebi, I have not been to a decent dance since last time you were in Berlin, and we might meet the Princess.’
The girl in the booth looked amused by our bickering. I said with a pained expression, ‘I know when I am beaten, tickets for two please.’
Despite the excessive price of the tickets the ballroom was crowded to capacity. For a moment we simply stood and watched the multicolored sea of dancers ebb and flow. Addie bubbled as excitedly as a child on Christmas Eve, ‘This is just what I have been missing. Which one do you think is the Princess?’
I was still smarting over the highway robbery at the door, so I was not going to be too generous with help. I craned my neck and peered round the room, ‘Probably the old lady standing by the punch bowl over there. The one talking to the man who looks like a walrus.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Well, she has enough diamonds to keep a Jew happy for a week, and look, she has a tiara.’
‘So she does. Isn't that disappointing? I'd hoped for someone young and glamorous.’
‘What difference does it make? You came here to dance, and speaking of dancing the next one is just about to start.’
The next dance was a Waltz. Even with the cramped conditions caused by the crowd it was a pleasure to be on that floor with Addie. She was a good dancer and was infectiously happy. ‘Ebi, we should do this more often.’
I glanced at her intermittently. The room was crowded and I had to watch where we were going to avoid collisions. I also secretly agreed with a sentiment of Addie’s that half the fun was watching other dancers. ‘Does that mean you are going to move down here to Munich?’
‘No, definitely not! You shall have to come back to Berlin.’
‘As tempting as…’ my attention was abruptly diverted to one of the faces in the crowd of dancers, ‘that girl…’
‘What girl?’
‘She's behind you now, blonde hair in a blue gown, very pretty. Look for her as we turn.’
As we turned, Addie craned her neck to look for the girl, ‘What about her?’
‘She's the girl who hunted me off last weekend.’
Addie laughed, her face creased with mirth, ‘The one with the pig?’
I pulled a sour face, ‘Yes the one with the boar.’
‘She doesn't look much like a peasant girl.’
‘No, but she certainly sounds like one. You should hear her accent, and her language!’
I had my back to the girl now, but Addie was watching her curiously. ‘She's recognized you as well. Look she's frowning over at us now.’
We turned again and as we did so my eyes met the girl's, ‘So she is, she looks cross again. Isn't she pretty though?’
‘Yes very, and she knows it. She's deliberately picked the blue of that gown. It emphasizes her blue eyes.’
‘A perfect match, but you're just jealous. I should see if she'll dance with me.’
‘Ebi you’re just going to stir up trouble, and who will dance with me?’
I laughed cheekily at her complaint, ‘You're pretty enough. Someone will soon ask you.’
She almost stamped her foot with frustration, ‘That's hardly the point, you came to dance with me!’
The music came to a halt. The crowd stilled, I decided to be daring, ‘That's it, I’m going to try my luck.’
‘Ebi, don't you dare leave me standing here!’
‘Go get a glass of punch, I'll dance with you next dance.’
Ignoring Addie's protests, I pushed my way across the floor. As I came near, it was obvious the girl was changing partners. The man she had been with, a fellow in his thirties, was apparently introducing her to a much younger man. She smiled charmingly at the boy and said something at which he blushed. It is sometimes a problem for pretty girls, all the single men want to dance with them and if they want to be polite, it can be a very mixed night. I stood behind her to one side and avoided making eye contact with her prospective partner. As I waited, I watched the conductor. He tapped his baton on the podium and brought the orchestra to order. Cutting it as fine as I could I stepped round beside the youth, ‘I am sorry but you’ve made a mistake, I’m next on the card.’
‘But…’
‘Sorry, check if you like.’
As the music started, The Blue Danube, I took the girl's hand and put my other hand around her waist and before she could protest, we whirled away with the crowd. She stared at me, with what really were the most amazingly vivid blue eyes, as if at a loss for words. I decided to attempt to keep the initiative, ‘I’m sorry, I don't believe we have been introduced, I am Ebert Gausel.’
For a moment I thought she would explode, as I had seen her do the previous weekend, but instead she laughed, a glorious sound that sent a shiver down my back. ‘A poacher in the forest and a poacher on the dance floor. If someone gave you a boat you'd be a pirate in no time.’
‘Har, har me hearties, that's me, Cap'n Gausel. But seriously, to be a poacher I would have had to steal something.’
‘What other name is there for a trespasser hunting on private land?’
‘I don't know, I prefer to remember the incident as if I was a gallant knight saving a damsel in distress.’
She smirked, ‘A gallant knight? Not suffering from delusions of grandeur, are we?’
‘Probably, but I like to think I am as good as any knight, at least on the dance floor.’
‘What a boast, well, you haven't trodden on my toes, yet!’
We fell silent for a moment. I was enjoying myself. In addition to the sparring, she was a wonderful dancer. We drew level with the drinks table and the girl spoke again, ‘The woman you were dancing with before is having a punch, but she looked very sourly at you.’
‘Addie? She'll keep, I told her I would let her have the next dance.’
She looked shocked, ‘That seems very callous. I really don't think you're the kind of person I want to dance with.’
For an instant I thought she was serious, then I realized she was playing with me.
‘Oh, I am sorry, Addie is my sister, we banter with each other. I'm not really that insensitive.’
Those wonderful eyes looked wistful for a moment, ‘I always wanted a sister.’
‘You can have mine if you like, they're not all they are made out to be.’
She grimaced, ‘You really are frightful.’
‘It's the beauty of the girl I'm dancing with, it's gone to my head, I don't know what I'm saying.’
‘You’re being trite, stop it!’
‘Why? I think you are enjoying it.’
‘Yes, no, wait! I shouldn't admit to that!’
‘Too late, it's out, you can't take it back.’
‘No, perhaps I don't want to.’
There was a pause, ‘You are a good dancer, Ebert.’
‘Thank you, but you're just saying that because I haven't trodden on your toes.’
She frowned at me, ‘I'm being serious.’
I stared into her amazing eyes and smiled, ‘I know, but you are so magnificent yourself, that it’s all too easy to dance well.’
She smiled happily up at me and it was as if a beam of sunlight had illuminated the room.
We danced in perfect harmony a little longer, laughing and joking, then I realized with alarm that I had neglected one vital piece of information. ‘You know my name, but you haven't told me yours.’
She looked at me with a pained expression, ‘You must be joking, you can't have missed it.’
‘I'm missing something here, we weren't introduced.’
‘Oh, I see, you must have come in late.’
‘What's that got to do with it?’
The music came to an end and reluctantly we came to a halt. She looked at me despondently, ‘I am sorry, I really do have a full card, I’m committed to dancing at least the next three full sets of dances.’
‘You haven't told me your name.’
‘You really don't know, do you?’
‘No, how could I?’
‘See if you can guess, you can tell me in the break after this set finishes.’
The young fellow I had duped, now stepped up beside me, ‘Excuse me, this is my dance!’
I stepped aside, the girl now switched her attention to the boy, she smiled charmingly, ‘You really must excuse the trick my friend played on you, but it’s your turn now, so no harm done.’
The music started again and she was swept away in the crowd.
I found Addie near the punch bowl. She smiled knowingly and handed me a glass. ‘You know who you've been dancing with?’
‘No, she didn't say her name.’
‘You didn't notice, but you nearly caused a riot. You jumped the queue, on about thirty men who have each paid fifty Reichsmarks to charity, for the privilege of dancing with a princess.’
‘You're joking.’
‘No, you've been dancing with... let me think I'll remember it all. Victoria, Katharina, Marie, Astrid, Chesterfield, the Princess von Brunnenstadt!’

Chapter One

Trespass

Ebert Gausel: June 1937
With a sigh I lowered myself down onto a boulder. I wiped my brow with my sleeve. Below me, lay the steep forested slopes of one of the upper branches of Bavaria's Brunnen Valley. As I tried to catch my breath, I pulled the cork from my water bottle, and took a drink.
I stretched my aching legs and soaked up the view. I was high, almost to that point where the soft greens of the deciduous oaks, sycamores, and elms, were replaced by the stiff majesty of the pines that covered a thick band of the higher slopes. It had rained the night before and the crystal sharpness of the Alpine air was so clear it seemed I could reach out and touch the ragged slopes on the other side of the valley.
The hammering in my chest finally eased, allowing me to breathe more easily. I took a cloth from my rucksack and wiped a few imaginary specks of dust from the barrel of my new Mauser 8 millimeter hunting rifle. I was still absurdly pleased with the engineered grace of this deadly melding of walnut and steel. At a month's wages, it was an object hard enough won to be treasured.
For over an hour, I had climbed all the way up from where I had left my car in the wooded shade of a steep little lane. I had not been rewarded for my efforts by as much as the sight of a rabbit. My prowess as a hunter seemed at stake. I desperately needed to find something to shoot. Even if only to prove to my friend, Erich Trinkhaus, I was not the inept Berlin boy he had jokingly claimed I was. The smirk on his normally friendly face the night before still rankled.
After a few minutes, deciding the view alone made the climb worthwhile, and feeling moderately content, I brought my Mauser up to my shoulder. Squinting, I peered through my telescopic sight, scanning the slopes below. I muttered crossly to myself, ‘Well, Ebert Gausel, you are a prize fathead.’
For perhaps a hundred meters below me, snaking up the slope between the trees, lay a well-worn path. It climbed across the slope, roughly paralleling the route I had laboriously climbed over to get to my vantage point.
An hour's scramble would have been transformed to a comfortable stroll, had I seen it before. Perhaps Trinkhaus had something, it seemed I was no mountain man, not that I would ever admit as much to him.
Still peering through the scope, I traced the line of the path back down the slope. As I looked I glimpsed, for a moment, a bobbing movement. It baffled me. I stared harder. Suddenly it made sense, someone's head was appearing over a fold in the ground. With a growing sense of curiosity, I squinted into my scope to see who was coming.
After a moment I could see it was a girl. At first she was hard to see, as she was a long way off and as she moved along the path, she kept disappearing and reappearing behind trees and the wrinkles of the mountain side. I felt puzzled; it seemed she was coming surprisingly quickly up the slope. Initially I thought it was a trick of looking through the scope, but then as she drew closer I realized she was actually loping up the path.
I watched as the girl continued to move closer. Now I could see she was wearing a sleeveless white cotton top and brief black shorts, possibly a League of German Girls sport uniform. While at a distance, I could see she was tall and slim, and as she drew still nearer, I could make out that she had blonde hair firmly tied back in a bun. I guessed from her hairstyle and appearance that she was probably in her late teens, or possibly early twenties.
I was amazed, she was actually still running, albeit slowly now, up such a steep and long path. Her stamina must be extraordinary.
This Diana of the forest was watching the path, her gaze fixed to the loose surface in front of her, so she had not seen me. As she came closer, I made the most of the voyeuristic pleasure derived from watching an attractive young woman. The uniform, with its brief shorts, showed off her shapely long legs and her tight little top did nothing to hide the appealing bounce of pert but full breasts.
I hoped she would glance up, but as she almost drew level with me she disappeared behind a clump of sycamores that clung tenaciously to the slope. Sighing with disappointment, I had hoped to complete my titillation by watching what I suspected would be a shapely bottom. I shifted my focus away from the point where the girl disappeared. I traced the line of the path to where it reappeared further up the slope. I focused on where she should appear, waiting patiently.
Suddenly, I stared open-mouthed with surprise. Trotting down the path in the opposite direction was a huge wild boar, the menace of its ugly tusked face almost palpable, even at my distance. It took me a moment to grasp, the girl and the beast were on a collision course. I realized with a surge of alarm, the girl was in real danger. I frantically worked the bolt on my rifle to chamber a round, but I was too late, even as I brought my sight to bear the animal disappeared from view as well.
Leaving my rucksack and bottle where they lay, I began an awkward run diagonally down and across the slope. It was rough ground, littered with boulders and branches, with the encumbrance of the rifle I could not make anything like the speed I wished. My heart jumped with alarm, as the terrifying sound of a woman's scream rang across the valley.
I almost tumbled the final few meters onto the path, a surface of packed clay and gravel. My rifle held out in front of me, I hurried up the way as quickly as I could. As I went, I could hear the angry grunting of the brute. Terrible images filled my mind. A beast that large was easily able to savage someone to death.
I rounded a bend in the path and sighted my quarry. The boar had its front legs resting up against the bole of a good-sized oak that grew down slope of the path. I was amazed at the size of the animal, two hundred kilograms, or more, I guessed. It seemed to bristle with menace as it peered up into the tree. I breathed a sigh of relief. From my position I could see the girl's legs hanging down from a branch. She was perhaps three meters up. She must have gone up that tree like a frightened squirrel.
I dropped to my knee and brought my rifle up to my shoulder. Breathing out slowly I sighted just behind the beast's shoulder and gently squeezed the trigger, the rifle thumped against my shoulder. There was a puff of dust from the beast's side as the bullet tore into its flank and the roar of the rifle rang across the valley, echoing and re-echoing. I worked the bolt to chamber a second round, just in case my first shot had not done the trick, but the animal went straight down in a heap.
I clicked on the rifle's safety catch and strode up the path towards my victim. I felt like a hero, as I marched toward the fair damsel I had saved. But much to my surprise, the damsel was not having any of it. The girl quickly dropped down a couple of branches before lowering herself to the ground. She bent over the pig before straightening up and fixing her gaze on me. ‘You useless maniac, what the hell do you think you were doing?’
She was furious, I stumbled to a halt totally speechless and just stared at her. Everything about her conspired to undermine me. I had expected relief and gratitude, instead I was confronted with towering rage. She was, as I had thought probably around her late teens, and as I had seen from a distance, attractive. Extraordinarily beautiful would be more accurate, with an exquisite face, from which flashed the most amazing blue eyes. In contrast, her outpouring of fury was anything but angelic. My dumb silence only drove her to new heights of passion, a tirade delivered in the accent of a Bavarian peasant, ‘I asked you, what the hell you thought you were doing?’
I felt totally off balance; she was simply magnificent in her anger. I had never seen a more remarkable girl. It was a thrill just to watch her, yet her unreasonable reaction was vexing, frustrating. With difficulty I found my tongue, ‘I was trying to save you from the brute.’
‘Save me? I was perfectly safe in the tree, a few minutes at the most and it would have wandered off.’
‘It attacked you.’
‘Only because I surprised it! They are really very shy. We are down to two breeding boars in this valley because of poaching. No, now one thanks to your imbecilic act.’
Now it was my turn to become angry, ‘Now listen here, I was trying to help.’
‘No! You listen! You are trespassing on private land. You have destroyed a valuable animal, and the gamekeeper I passed at the bottom of the hill will already be on his way up here to see who is shooting. So if you don't want to get into any more trouble this morning get lost. Get the fuck out of here!’
‘Well,...’ I was surprised, I couldn't recall ever having been sworn at by a girl, ‘I'm going.’
‘Yes go, fucking go!’
This last delivered in a shriek of fury.
I looked back once, as I rounded the bend that took me out of sight. She was standing with her hands on her hips still glaring at me. I groaned with frustration, what an infuriating experience. I had never been abused in such a way by any female, girl or woman, not even my sister. Still bemused, I began the climb back up to where I had dropped my things.

Prologue

Heinrich Lange: December 1944
It is still grey and cold, the morning mist lifting out of the hollows, as the three of us drive down towards the river. We are forced into going someway out of our path, to find a road in the right direction. Huber even takes the big Horch across a field, the trailer with our fuel cans rattling behind, to reach the track that parallels the river. Huber swings the Horch, onto this rough road. The riverbank trail weaves through Alder trees, their stiff branches leafless against the cold winter sky.
A soldier in a camouflage smock jumps out of the refuge of a concealed firing position ahead of us and tries to wave us down. Herr Gausel leans forward to Huber. He shouts over the noise, ‘Keep going, don’t stop!’
The soldier has to leap out of the way. He shouts something after us, but what, I cannot hear. Huber drives along the river road until we come level with the field. He halts the vehicle on the road.
Herr Gausel jumps out, ‘She will be hiding, waiting for dark to cross the river. Spread out, start looking. Huber, look for hollows among the trees south of here. Lange, you look along the hedges in the fields. I will go through the trees to the north.’
I stand and watch the others for a moment. Because of the cold of the morning, Huber wears a camouflage smock over his uniform. He quickly disappears into the trees. Herr Gausel is still in his field grey dress uniform, not warm enough for the weather, but I doubt he notices the cold. I sigh and turn to my task.
Having experience of hunting people, I decide even if she is here, with only three of us and no dog, it is nearly impossible to find her. Then while I look I reflect, is it best if he finds her at all? Would it be better if she escapes? I cannot bear to think of what will happen to Katharina in the hands of the Gestapo. And what of Herr Gausel, how will it be for him to hand her over to them? I decide it is best if we never find her, if she makes it across the river to France. She may be in danger there, but nothing like the horror she will face in the Gestapo's torture cells.
So of course it is me who finds her. I nearly tread on her hand. She is lying in a small hollow under the hedge. She lies on her side, asleep with the sleep of the exhausted. One of her hands flung out above her head, extends into the open. The weak morning sun throws a mottled pattern of light and shade over her face. With her tousled blonde hair and a smear of dirt on her cheek, she looks like a sleeping child. I wish I can let her slumber, but if it comes to a choice, I know to whom I owe my loyalty.
I quietly leave her lie and fetch Herr Gausel. When we reach the place again, she still sleeps. She has not moved. Herr Gausel stands and watches her for some time. She does not move, except to rub her nose as she sleeps. He looks so sad I think he will weep. He remains still as if undecided what to do. But finally his face hardens. He reaches down and grabs her extended wrist. Her eyes flutter open. He heaves hard, pulls her out from under the hedge.
She shrieks, a noise of surprise and pain, as she is bodily dragged out. He hauls her onto the grass before dropping her arm. But he does not let her lie; he grabs her by her hair, pulling her up, on to her knees, fumbling for his pistol with his other hand. She moans with pain, and utters a single word, ‘Ebi.’
He seems to flinch, as if it is he who has been hurt, but it is only momentary; he pulls his pistol and grinds it against her cheek. Now he moans, as if in pain, ‘Why have you done this? Why have you destroyed me, destroyed everything?’
In her eyes, I see for a moment naked fear, fear of death. But she closes them and when they open again, there is nothing but resignation. ‘What do you want me to say, Ebi?’
He shouts, ‘Tell me!’
Her beautiful eyes simply stare up at him; she says nothing. It is a tortured scream that issues from his throat ‘Tell me!’
He smacks the pistol barrel into the side of her head. It is a stupefying blow, but he is holding her so she cannot fall. She blinks and struggles to speak. ‘I have never tried to destroy you, I wanted to save you.’
‘Save me?!’
Now, he presses the pistol under the line of her jaw. ‘Save me? Save me from what?’
She takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes, ‘From what you have become. I wanted to undo some of the harm you have done.’
‘Harm, what harm?’
‘All the death, the killing, a little boy called Benjamin.’
‘Benjamin? Who the hell is Benjamin?’
‘Benjamin was a little boy who lived in Poland.’
‘You are telling me all this has been for them? For the filthy Jews?!’
‘Yes, for them, for you, for us.’
He stands very still now, he is very white. Then he howls and the howl that comes from him is one not only of anger, but also of ultimate despair. He lashes at her again, his gun catching her brow with a sickening crack. She tumbles onto the grass. He turns on his heel and strides away. ‘Bring the prisoner.’
I gently help her up, his final blow has left a huge red welt down the side of her face. Her eyebrow is split open, blood already pours into her eye and down her face. I am distressed. I understand Herr Gausel and his moral stand, but I am weak, I cannot bring myself to hate her. I seek to save her a little dignity. At least what comes next will only be witnessed by those who love her, ‘Huber, go back to the vehicle, wait there.’
I take her by the elbow and guide her along. She stumbles several times. She is finding it hard to walk, perhaps she cannot see very well because of the blood running into her eye, perhaps she is in shock.
We pass through some trees which are clothed in nothing but their grey bark. So we come to the riverbank. It is steep here and the water rushes past. Even in the starkness of winter the Rhine is a beautiful river. It should be peaceful here.
She guesses what is happening. She struggles now and claws at me, then turns to face him, ‘Ebi, I’m your Katharina! You can come with me! We can go to Switzerland together. Even now, it's not too late to let go.’
But there is nothing in his face to give her hope. Gausel just looks at her, his face wooden. Then she speaks one last time. It is strange. She is not begging now. She knows it is the end. It is as if she absolves him. ‘Ebi, I love you.’
He screams again, a wordless howl, and swings the pistol at her. This time he strikes the left side of her face. I am sure I hear the crack of breaking bone, as the pistol drives into her jaw. She is down again, and blinks stupidly up at me, clearly stunned. Her eye is almost swollen shut, and blood from the cut on her brow streaks her face. Her left cheek is already bruising and swelling. I want to cry. My heart is breaking. Her beautiful face is twisted out of shape. I am sure her cheek is smashed. I cannot bear it. This should not be happening to her, and not at his hands.
Gausel is standing with his back to us, maybe to avoid seeing what he has done, maybe to gather the strength for what he is about to do. He shouts again, this time at me, ‘Get her on her knees, on the bank.’
I drag her up, lift her to her knees facing out to the river. She is not resisting now, but is almost limp. I hold her by the shoulder ready to pitch her forwards clear of the shallows when it is done. I turn my face towards the river and close my eyes. Not so much because I do not want to watch, which I do not, but because I know what will happen.
In Russia for executions, small caliber pistols, mostly 6.35mm, are used. This is because, while these low power bullets do the job at close range, they seldom cause the head to rupture, hence less mess to clean up. But of course, such a weapon is nearly useless as a military sidearm. Gausel prefers a Belgian made, Browning Hi-Power, because of its large capacity clip. At contact range, the heavy 9mm bullet will likely blow her head apart. It is bad enough to get such a mess on oneself, it is worse to get it in the eyes.
Looking away, I hear Gausel cock his pistol, even over the rushing water. I cannot bear it, my heart is breaking, I want to tell him to think again, maybe he can let her go. Anybody can see we have lost the war already, surely showing mercy just once will not diminish us. I think this, I go to speak, then abruptly my face is spattered with the warm stickiness of blood. With the roar of the pistol ringing in my ears, I tip her forwards into the river. There is a splash and she is gone.