Chapter Thirty Six
Rattenfänger von Rosenberg
At this early hour of the morning, had young Danny Branson been awake, which indeed he might well have been, but also in Aix-les-Bains, which he was most decidedly not, then the powerful 6 cylinder grey Hispano-Suiza, with its top speed of 110 mph, white-walled tyres and with its mascot of a silver stork in flight atop its radiator, would no doubt have drawn his admiring glance. However, as it was, the motor, with its two male occupants purred all but unseen through the deserted, shuttered, cobbled, lamp-lit streets of the French town and headed towards the railway station.
There the motor came to a stop and the two men got out. Even at this early hour the station was a blaze of lights. Removing their driving goggles and their gloves, without further ado, they hurried through the empty booking hall and out onto the platform, there to await the arrival of the Rome Express. A glance at the clock on the exterior wall of the salle d'attente confirmed that, if the train was running to time, and the Rome Express was never late, it was not due for another half an hour. Time enough.
Continuing to talk quietly, in guttural tones, the two men sauntered nonchalantly along the equally deserted platform, out from beneath the overall roof and away from the glare of its ornate, brightly lit hanging lamps, to somewhere darker and rather more discrete. Once satisfied that they were out of sight and well away from prying eyes, reaching inside the capacious pockets of their overcoats, each of the two men drew out his Mauser revolver and checked the bullets in the respective cylinders.
In the distance, still some way off, to the north, a whistle sounded.
"Ach! Hier kommt es!"
"So now you know everything" said Edith.
Sitting on the bed next to Sybil and the two sleepy Meyer children, while Tom continued to stand by the door, Edith had been explaining more of what exactly it was that had led up to the two children being placed so clandestinely on board the Rome Express.
The Meyers were extremely wealthy and while the family came originally from Eisenstadt in the east of Austria, the children's father, along with several other adult members of the family were bankers, with their main banking-house in Vienna. Edith had already mentioned attacks on Jewish cafés by right-wing thugs and had gone onto explain that despite the formation of organisations by Jews to protect themselves, this had in fact made things worse; was not, said Edith, any guarantee of safety as the children's elder brother, at school in Vienna, had found to his cost. Sadly, it had simply been the case of Karl having been in the wrong place at the wrong time, when earlier this year, along with another Jewish boy, Karl, who at fourteen, was then but a couple of years older than Danny, had been been set upon in the street on the edge of the Leopoldstadt district of the city by a group of right-wing thugs. While Karl's friend had managed to escape their attackers, Karl had not been so fortunate and had been beaten and kicked to death in the street in front of a crowd of bystanders who had done nothing to help either of the two young Jewish boys.
At the time of this tragedy, Josef and Emelie were already here in France, at school in Paris, but even there they were not safe - an anonymous note posted to the Meyers had suggested that the children might be the subject of a kidnap attempt and so, with the children's parents in Austria, knowing that Edith was intending to travel south on the Rome Express, a frantic appeal had been made to her by the children's mother to help get the two children away from the French capital and to safety in the south of France where the family had relatives.
For Sybil, if for no-one else standing here in the lamp-lit compartment at the far end of their sleeping car, it was now that several things which, if she thought about it had been puzzling her ever since they left Paris, now at last began to make some kind of sense; fell more or less neatly into place.
The first of these seemingly disconnected incidents, minor and trivial as each of them had seemed to be at the time of their occurrence, had taken place beneath the magnificent, cavernous, over-arching roof of the Gare de Lyon, just before the departure of the Rome Express, when a railway official of the Paris Lyon Méditerranée Railway Company had come hastening along the corridor of their sleeping car with an unexpected telegram for Edith.
To be truthful, at the time of its last-minute delivery, none of the other four adults in the Branson Crawley party had given the matter of the hurriedly delivered telegram very much thought, if indeed any at all. Indeed, as far as she could recall, when the official had come hurrying down the corridor with the telegram and in search of Edith, it had been Sybil alone who had been witness to its delivery.
At the time, both Matthew and Mary had been in their compartment and with the exception of young Max, Tom had his hands more than full looking after the rest of the boys. With the exception of little Rebecca who was being cared for by Nanny, the rest of the children, Max included, had been proving predictably fractious; hungry, tired and over excited both by the journey and the kaleidoscope of new sights and sounds that they were now witnessing unfolding all about them. This in turn had caused Tom, who was at the far end of the coach with the other four boys, to bark out an unexpected sharp rebukeich had been audible the length of the entire carriage, to both Danny and to Robert who were engaged in their favourite pastime of mercilessly teasing their two younger brothers.
And when, some time later, in the privacy of their own compartment, Sybil had mentioned the incident of the telegram in passing to Tom, he had simply laughed at her; said that in all probability that it had been from Friedrich to wish Edith Bon Voyage.
However, Sybil was not convinced, for she alone had actually been privy to the effect which the content of the telegram had exercised upon her elegant, poised, much travelled and seemingly unflappable elder sister.
At the time, along with Saiorse, with young Max seated next to her, Sybil had been sitting in Edith's own compartment. There she had watched wholly uncomprehending as, having once opened it, her sister had hurriedly scanned the contents of the telegram; saw the colour wash over Edith's face, watched impassively, uncomprehendingly, as Edith replied punctiliously and swiftly to the steward in German and just as quickly gave him a largesse of coins from out of her purse. A moment later, and the young man himself was hastening back down the corridor, presumably to despatch Edith's reply before the express departed.
At the time Sybil had thought something to be amiss, but when she had asked Edith if everything was all right, Edith had simply nodded, asked why it wouldn't be, adding by way of further explanation that one couldn't rely on anyone these days and said the telegram was merely to do with a last-minute change to certain travel arrangements which, as things turned out, proved not to be very far from the truth. Sybil had no chance to press the matter further for it was just then that young Max, who had got up from his seat and was now standing by the window, said something to his mother in German and now pointed excitedly to something he had seen outside on the platform.
Looking over her young nephew's shoulder, it was then that Sybil saw what young Max had seen: an altercation taking place down below the windows of their sleeping car, involving two men in dark trilby hats and overcoats who, it seemed, had, at the very last-minute, been attempting to board the Rome Express.
The ensuing fracas outside on the platform had soon attracted a score of bystanders as, gesticulating wildly in the direction of the sleeping car occupied by the Bransons and the Crawleys and volubly shouting their protests, a fierce tussle ensued; during the course of which the two men first lost their hats, were then wrestled to the ground and thereafter hustled away along the platform by a bevy of uniformed railway officials of the railway company.
The whole incident involving the two men had lasted but a couple of minutes. A moment later, the whistle for the departure of the train had sounded and with a sudden jolt those on board the express train became aware that they were now leaving the Gare de Lyon. Thereafter, Sybil had given the matter no more than a passing thought, but now as she reflected upon it, coming so hard as it had done on the heels of the incident involving the hurriedly delivered telegram, had both had something to do with the presence here on the express of these two children?
"Edith?"
"The telegram, that came for you... at the Gare de Lyon, that unpleasantness we witnessed out of the carriage window on the platform. Did either of those things have anything to do with these two children?"
Edith had now seated herself next to Josef. Putting an arm around his hunched shoulders, she smiled and then nodded to Sybil.
"The telegram certainly; the other business, I'm not really sure. Perhaps. Maybe. I told you the telegram had to do with a change to certain travel arrangements?"
Sybil likewise nodded.
"As I said, both the children have been at private boarding schools, in Paris, here in France. The intention was for them to be met at the border and then taken to stay with relatives in the south, somewhere near Nice. Menton I think it was to have been. However, because of unexpected illness in the family, the relative who was supposed to be meeting them couldn't do so. So, Frau Meyer asked instead that I see the children through to safety in Turin. The family is quite widely spread and they have relatives in Italy too".
But that change of plan, explained Edith, now meant crossing the border at Modane.
With all of this in mind, the reason for her persistent questioning of their table steward in the dining car at dinner as to the form and nature of the customs' inspection to be expected at Modane on the Franco-Italian border now also became clear. But even if members of the Branson/Crawley party were subject to only the most perfunctory of enquiries, a search of the train, however token, was likely to reveal the presence of these two children. How on earth, wondered Sybil, did Edith intend explaining their presence, unaccompanied, on the train to the Italian authorities? Presumably they had passports permitting them to enter Italy.
Sybil now voiced her concerns openly to her sister.
"Edith, darling, the children... I assume that they both have tickets... passports?"
"Of course they do" snapped Edith. As if to reinforce what she had just said, like a magician pulling rabbits out of a hat, as if from nowhere, Edith now held up for their inspection two railway tickets along with two pink coloured documents, each of the latter emblazoned on the front with a crowned eagle and the words "Reisepass Republik Osterreich".
"Satisfied?"
"Well that's something at least" observed Tom with a sigh of relief. "Now, I suggest we make these two children as comfortable as possible. Edith, tell them again they've nothing to be afraid of and that we all then go back to bed and try and get some sleep".
Despite the sudden and unexpected production by her sister of both tickets and passports for the two children, Sybil wasn't convinced that Edith was being entirely honest.
"Edith, those passports you've just produced, they are valid aren't they?"
Edith demurred.
"Well... er... yes, of course".
"Edith...
"Well, not exactly".
"How not exactly?"
"Some minor difficulty".
"What minor difficulty?" persisted Tom.
"They're out-of-date. But only by a month or so. There simply wasn't time to get new ones issued... In any event, if the children stay in here, apart from the three of us, no-one else knows they are here, so there really should be no problem".
"Ever the optimist" observed Tom with a grin.
"But if the train should be searched! Edith, don't you see…" began Sybil frantically.
"Jaysus!" bellowed Tom "What is it this time?"
The train had come to a stand yet again. Opening the window, Tom stuck his head out into the black darkness of the night. Up ahead, in the distance he could see the twinkling lights of what he presumed must be a station.
"I think we should tell Matthew" said Sybil.
"Do we really have to?" began Edith.
"I think it would be for the best" said Tom gently. "I'll go and fetch him".
A few moments later, sleepy-eyed, his hair tousled, dressed in silk pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers, Matthew appeared in the doorway of the compartment. He nodded, smiled he hoped reassuringly at the two Jewish children.
"Tom's told me something of what's been happening" he said.
In the privacy of the compartment, Tom quickly further apprised Matthew of the situation regarding the two Meyer children and how it was that they came to be here on board the express.
"The question is, Matthew, what on earth do we do now?" Tom spread his hands expansively.
Matthew nodded.
"I do begin to see what you mean, old chap". He smiled down encouragingly at the two children.
"I'm so very sorry" said Edith. "But when the children's mother asked me to help, I just didn't think…"
Sybil smiled, squeezed her arm reassuringly.
"Edith, don't reproach yourself. There's absolutely no need to apologise. After all, you simply did what anyone else would have done. Besides…"
"Besides what?" asked Edith nervously. She bit her lip.
"Compassion always makes sense" said Tom softly.
"Of course, the difficult part will come later" observed Matthew ruefully.
"You mean crossing the border? We'll be alright. You'll see" said Tom cheerfully.
Matthew smiled; noticeably he said nothing.
"Another optimist! Edith laughed, glanced at Sybil, before giving Tom a quick kiss on his cheek.
Tom blushed, ducked his head. He grinned happily at Sybil; was even more delighted when she returned his smile.
"Yes, I won't be happy until we're safely through. All of us" said Edith, now chewing on her lower lip.
She smiled reassuringly at Josef and Emelie, said something to them in German, presumably to try and calm their fears. Whatever it was, it seemed to do the trick again, at least for the time being as looking up at her from the bed the two children now nervously returned her smile.
"Nor me" said Sybil, resting her hand protectively against her belly and laying her head on Tom's shoulder; she felt his lips softly nuzzle her hair.
"Actually, it's not the border crossing that's really worrying me" said Matthew softly.
He saw the other three adults in the compartment now look questioningly at him.
"Oh? Really? Well what then?" asked Tom evidently clearly mystified.
Matthew chuckled to himself.
"I find myself wondering, just what on earth are we going to tell Mary?"
About the same time this conversation was taking place aboard the Rome Express, but a short way down the line, in the warmth of the summer night, beneath the overall glass roof of the imposing railway station of Aix-les-Bains, a grey cat lay curled up on a window cill on the platform side of the main building, cautiously eyeing the two men now pacing to and fro upon the platform. From time to time the men glanced up at the clock on the wall above the double doors of the salle d'attente.
Then, in the distance from the direction of expected train, now close at hand, came the mournful shriek of a whistle.
Author's Note:
For those of you who do not speak or know any German, the title of this chapter translates as "The Pied Piper of Rosenberg".