Chapter Thirty One
Roll Call Of The Dead
Praterstern, Leopoldstadt, Second District, Vienna, summer 1933.
Here in Leopoldstadt, not far from the imposing castellated, turreted buildings of the Nordbahnhof, for many immigrants arriving in the capital of the then sprawling territories of the Austro-Hungarian Empire their very first glimpse of Vienna, ever since 1886 the bronze effigy commemorating Admiral Tegetthof had gazed down, sightless, unseeing of one and all, from the top his soaring eleven metre high column, looking out across the wide expanse of the Praterstern, one of the largest squares in all of the city.
On the face of it, the shocking discovery made early one morning by a street sweeper, of the body of a one armed man who had been battered to death, stripped naked, and his beaten and bloodied corpse left lying face down in the dirt and detritus of an alleyway off the square, had nothing at all to do with those residing permanently or but temporarily, at Rosenberg. But, as subsequent events were very shortly to prove, it most certainly did.
As for the one armed man, a local resident, being well known locally, he was soon identified; a former soldier of the 6th Landwehr Infantry Regiment who, since the end of the war, like so many others of his kind, had eked out a penurious existence, begging for food and money on the streets of Vienna.
On The Terrace, Rosenberg, two days later.
A short while later, arm in arm, the two sisters strolled companionably out onto the sunny terrace to find that, along with the three children, Matthew had given up hunting for lizards. Along with Saiorse, he was now seated in a wicker chair with Simon perched beside him on one of the arms, something which he would never have been permitted to do at home. As for young Bobby, in the absence of his own parents, looking for all the world like an Irish leprechaun, he had seated himself cross-legged on the table, and was engaged busily in tossing pebbles over the top of the terrace wall, taken from a heap of small stones piled beside him.
If Matthew still had had Moseley as his valet, which, of course, he didn't, long ago thinking it utterly ridiculous that he should have a man servant to help him dress, then, thought Mary, Moseley would undoubtedly have had something pithy to say about the dusty state of the knees of His Lordship's pale grey trousers, of which Matthew himself seemed entirely oblivious. Just as he seemed to be blissfully unaware either of Simon perched beside him on the arm of his chair or of young Bobby seated on the table. Yet, if Matthew had noticed, which knowing him as she did, Mary thought seemed more than likely, given his nature, he had chosen to say nothing.
Mary sighed despondently.
At times she thought Matthew to be far too indulgent; letting the children run rings round him. All the same, given what he, she herself, and darling Tom had just been through over there in Hungary, in the scheme of things, Mary found herself thinking that in this, as in so many things, not that she ever liked to admit it, Matthew probably had the right of it. After all, did it really matter? Any of it?
Catching some of what Matthew was now saying, Mary and Edith realised that he was telling the three children about his responsibilities as the earl of Grantham. What Matthew himself, emulating His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, often referred to, much to Mary's consternation, somewhat derisorily, as earling. This being Matthew's own made up word for his many and varied duties; presently explaining to the children how much of his time was taken up running the Downton Abbey estate.
Of course, much of what Matthew had to say came as no surprise whatsoever to Simon but what undoubtedly did was the fact that, in the absence of Robert, off as he was with Danny and Max along with Uncle Friedrich in Vienna, that, save for his two cousins, Simon had something he had but rarely: his father's undivided attention. Well, almost.
"Da says we don't need an aris … aristoc …" Saiorse fumbled for the word.
"Aristocracy?" suggested her uncle helpfully with a laugh.
"Grand!" said Saiorse. "Da says it's an out ... out ... something or other ... relic".
"Outworn relic?"
"That's what Da said, for sure!"
"I'm certain he did. In fact, I think your Da's probably right," said Matthew, nodding his head.
"For sure he is. He's my Da!" Saiorse likewise nodded her head and just as emphatically as had her uncle.
Matthew smiled. There was, of course, no gain saying that. He could just hear his Irish brother-in-law banging on at length about the evils of feudalism but decided that, nonetheless, he would still try to defend his own corner; much as Matthew had done with Tom so many times in the past. More often than not this had been during their nightly game of billiards when the Bransons had come to stay at Downton, and usually after consuming several glasses of Matthew's own whisky, Tom became even more loquacious and got on his high horse about the iniquities of the British class system. However, given Saiorse's age, Matthew did his best to put what he wanted to say into words which he hoped would be intelligible to a girl of twelve.
"Agreed. However, darling, just for a moment, what if there was no earl of Grantham …"
Saiorse was flummoxed and it showed. She frowned; looked quizzically across at her uncle.
"But there is. You are".
Again Matthew nodded his head.
"Yes, but, think, what if there wasn't? Who would employ all the people who now work on the estate? Not only the servants up at the big house, but the tenant farmers and the agricultural labourers who work the farms, who plant and harvest the crops, the hedge cutters who make the hedges secure, who trim them and keep them neat and in order, the woodcutters who look after the coppices and the woods, the stone masons who repair the cottages, the barns, and all the other buildings on the estate, not forgetting old Pullan down at the smithy in the village who shoes the horses, including Speedwell, your Aunt Mary's mare, and makes the metal tyres for the cart wheels ..."
But before Matthew could continue further with his explanation, or indeed Saiorse make to reply, there came the sound of a motor, to be precise two of them coming up the long drive at speed, trailing clouds of dust and chips of gravel in their wake. Matthew rose to his feet.
"Hello, it looks like we have visitors ..." Matthew saw that Edith, having let go Mary's arm, was now shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun, and looking towards the drive, gazing at the fast approaching pair of black motors. A matter of minutes later, from the far side of the house, there came the sound of the two cars pulling to a stand, their wheels crunching on the gravel of the forecourt. Shortly thereafter, Kleist came out onto the terrace in search of his mistress to announce that there was an officer of the Bundessicherheitswachekorps at the front door, who wished to speak to the master.
"Madam, I explained clearly but to no avail that the master had gone into Vienna. It was then that the officer requested he might speak with you".
"Where is he now?" asked Edith.
"Still at the front door. I did not think it at proper that he should be admitted to the house. Not until I had spoken with you".
"Very good, Kleist. Please be so good a to show the officer into the Drawing Room and be certain to tell him that I'll be along directly".
"Madam".
The old butler inclined his head, then set off at his customary sedate pace across the terrace, and disappeared inside the house in order to convey the instructions of his mistress to the officer commanding the detachment of the Bundessicherheitswachekorps presently waiting outside the front door.
It was at this precise moment that Wyss and Salvatore arrived back on the terrace from down in the meadow where they had been ever since breakfast was over making a series of final adjustments to the engine of the Junkers preparatory to their departure which was scheduled for some time later today, although Max had made his Uncle Conrad promise faithfully that they would not leave before he and his cousins had returned home to Rosenberg from Vienna.
Seeing the two pilots, Edith waved happily and smiled; now nodded in their direction.
"I rather expect this visit is all to do with the business of the ..."
"Would you like me to come along?" asked Matthew.
"You mean ... for moral support?"
"Well, something like that. Yes".
Mary said nothing. From what she knew of Edith, she thought her sister would prove easily more than a match for any country policeman but then she was thinking of the likes of dear old Police Constable Chadwick. Portly of build and often short of breath, an undeniable favourite with the local children who knew his bark was worse than his bite, come rain or shine, Constable Chadwick did his rounds of Downton mounted on an ancient bicycle. However, here in Austria, the officers of the Bundessicherheitswachekorps, like those of the Bundesgendarmerie, were of an entirely different breed altogether, and some were already infected with Nazism.
"That would be most kind of you if you did".
"Then it's settled. Darling, will you stay here with the children? Help them look for lizards and so forth, while Edith and I go inside and deal with the ..."
"Me? Help the children look for lizards?"
Matthew grinned broadly.
"Why ever not? You'll enjoy it, you see if you don't! It's the most enormous fun. Don't worry, we won't be long. Oh, and, if in the meantime, Hansel and Gretel should return unexpectedly from Neverland, be so good as to let them know what's happened".
Mary nodded, while at the same time making a mental note to herself that her ideas and those of Matthew as to what constituted fun were, at times, poles apart.
Having overheard his Uncle Matthew, Bobby now scrambled quickly off the table; ran over to where his Aunt Mary was still standing, she watching as Matthew and Edith disappeared off inside the house.
"Aunt Mary, are ya really going to help us all look for lizards, for sure?" Bobby sounded amazed, as well he might.
Mary looked down at her Irish nephew; he was the splitting image of his father, so much so that it could have been a pint-sized, seven year old Tom standing before her.
She inclined her head in the affirmative.
"Thanks to your Uncle Matthew, bless his little cotton socks, it would seem, young man, that, yes, I am".
"Grand!" Bobby positively beamed.
While grand was not at all the word Mary herself would have used to describe what she was about to do, Bobby's grin was infectious, and she found herself smiling back at him. Then she sighed again; Matthew had a very great deal for which to answer.
Wurstelprater, Second District of Vienna, that same day some time later.
Along with the happy, laughing faces of the boys already on board, most of whom were of a similar age to Danny, Rob, and Max, for the Three Musketeers, the bright lights and the music of the waltzer beckoned irresistibly. Instinctively, Danny and Rob ran over to the attendant's booth. Max, too, made to start forward but, as he did so, now felt his father's restraining hand placed gently but nonetheless firmly on his left shoulder.
"Max, I said no, remember?" Friedrich said softly.
Max was utterly crestfallen. Looking up at his father, he blushed scarlet; his eyes misted.
Realising that Max had not joined them, puzzled that he had not done so, Danny and Rob turned round to look for him and, catching sight of Max, called to him to come and join them. Slowly, Max shook his head. As he did so, Danny and Rob saw just how sad he was looking so unlike the Max they had come to know. While neither of the two boys fully understood exactly what it was that was wrong with Max all the same, instinctively, they both realised why he was now looking the way he did. At that, Danny and Rob exchanged meaningful glances. Simultaneously, both of them shook their heads. A moment later, they had walked back to where their uncle and cousin had remained standing over by a row of stalls selling all manner of food to purchase and eat while wandering around the Wurstelprater. It now fell to Danny to explain.
"If it's all the same to ya, Uncle Friedrich, if Max isn't allowed to go on any of the rides here, then we won't go on them either".
Friedrich smiled.
It was just as it always was with these three: un pour tous, tous pour un. He had said it before many times; Max thought the world of Danny and Rob and no wonder that he did. Feeling very warmly disposed towards his two nephews, Friedrich suggested that instead they all try their luck in one of the shooting booths where, in due course, the honours went to Max who, much to his delight, won a wind up, clockwork, tinplate model aeroplane. While in no sense as accurate a replica as the beautifully crafted models Papa had made for him, suspended by lengths of cotton thread from the ceiling of his bedroom, for Max no other prize could have been more apt.
Then they tried their luck in a skittle alley where Rob won a teddy which Danny, with a grin and a nod to Simon's much loved bear, promptly named Oscar The Second which, Rob said, since he himself was too old for such a toy, he would give to little Rebecca. Danny managed to win something too; in his case, a penny whistle with which he seemed inordinately pleased. Said that when they were back in Ireland, he and Bobby would take the train into town one Saturday morning, lay their caps on the pavement outside the GPO on O'Connell Street and put on a show for the passers-by, he on his penny whistle, while young Bobby went through his repertoire of Irish jigs.
A ride on the recently extended eight kilometre circuit of the Liliputbahn, the miniature railway followed. After that was over, glancing at his wristwatch, Friedrich saw that it was almost time to make their way over to the Riesenrad. But, before they did so, he took a photograph on his Leica IIIa camera, of the three boys standing together in the warm sunshine, Max between Danny and Rob, all of them smiling broadly, their arms around each other's shoulders, beside one of the two steam locomotives of the Liliputbahn.
Gazebo, Rosenberg about the same time.
They had now left the bridge and, with Tom more or less back to his usual self, he and Sybil had strolled as far as the somewhat dilapidated gazebo on the island where owing to a passing shower, having taken refuge inside, they sat down on one of the marble benches within. Standing among the trees, octagonal in shape, with tall round headed windows on each side, the gazebo, decayed as it undoubtedly was now, held fond memories for both Friedrich and Edith, for it was here some ten years ago that she had told him that she was expecting a child - young Max. Not that Tom and Sybil were aware of this, nor indeed for that matter were Matthew and Mary, for it had never been mentioned in conversation.
After a short while sitting contentedly with their arms around each other, Sybil's head resting on Tom's shoulder, listening to the pitter-pat of the falling rain on the glass panes of the gazebo roof, here in this quiet, peaceful, secluded spot, with only the birds and woodland animals for company, Tom soon lost no time in making it perfectly clear to Sybil, if any such clarity was needed, what he had in mind.
"But what if the children should ..." she began.
His fingers already beginning to undo the buttons of her white blouse, Tom grinned.
"Darlin', our Danny is off in Vienna enjoying himself with his cousins and, as for the others, what with this rain, trust me ... they won't come this way".
Nor did they.
Meanwhile, close to the house, along with the three children, Mary was now down on her hands and knees on the sun baked flagstones. However, if she longed desperately for a chance to escape from watching and searching for lizards, even the weather served to conspire against her. For, up here on the terrace, the sun continued to shine and the passing shower of rain never came this way.
Drawing Room, Rosenberg.
Grateful for Matthew's presence, as they reached the door to the Drawing Room, Edith turned back to face him.
"Matthew, darling, whatever all of this is about, say nothing. Let me do the talking".
"As you wish".
The Riesenrad, Wurstelprater, Second District of Vienna.
Considered by many of the Viennese to be something of an engineering marvel, to all intents and purposes, the Riesenrad was no more than an enormous metal circle held together by an intricate, spider like web of massive iron girders and huge steel cables which, at the same time, managed somehow to appear both light and ethereal. Rides on it always proved very popular, even when it was wet, and today with the weather being so glorious, the operators of the huge ferris wheel were doing brisk business. Shortly before two o'clock, Friedrich and the three boys joined the queue of those waiting to purchase tickets for a ride in one of the thirty or so gondolas, each of which was the size of a tramcar, resplendent in their livery of imperial red. Accessed by a single leaf sliding door at one end, with six windows on each of the two long sides of the cabins, the gondolas gave those on board views in all directions, out over the sprawling metropolis of the city of Vienna; rivalled only by those on offer from the Watchman's Chamber atop the South Tower of the Stephansdom.
While each of the gondolas could carry some thirty or so passengers, given the long line of people waiting impatiently to board the ferris wheel, quite how Herzog and his friends intended ensuring that Friedrich and the three boys had a cabin all to themselves, Friedrich couldn't begin to imagine. Back at the Stephansdom, Herzog and Klein had explained that in seeking to deal with - their words not his own and something which, while he understood the necessity for it, Friedrich himself did not approve, they would be, to use an English phrase, killing two birds with one stone.
Of course, Friedrich was very well aware that no-one's motives are ever entirely altruistic. In silencing the would be assassin, Goldstein, Herzog, and the rest would also be removing from the scene an individual whom they suspected of playing a significant part in the campaign of violence presently being orchestrated again the Jewish community here in Vienna. This had taken the form of attacks on individuals and their property, as witness what had happened at the Café Produktenbörse back in December 1929 and rather more recently at a Jewish prayer room in the Café Sperlhof just last year.
As he had done on the tram a short while earlier, Friedrich kept a weather eye on those immediately behind them in the queue but no-one looked at all out of place; Friedrich reflecting ruefully that no self respecting assassin would seek to draw attention to himself. Indeed quite the reverse.
There were several families with their children, some artisans eating Käsekrainer purchased from one of the many cheap eateries, a couple of young priests, no doubt from the Archiepiscopal Seminary on the Boltzmanngasse, both wearing black birettas and cassocks, a group of students from the university, and a one armed veteran from the Great War proudly wearing on his chest a clutch of medals. Among these, Friedrich noted with approval, the Karl Truppen-Kreuz with its red and white ribbon, and the Verwundetenmedaille, which by its grey-green ribbon indicated that the man had been invalided out of the war; no doubt following the loss of his arm.
Sadly, there were all too many such wounded ex-servicemen here in Vienna, reduced to beggary. Friedrich recalled there had been another sitting on the pavement near the door to the South Tower of the Stephansdom when he and the boys had come down from the Watchman's Chamber. Like this one he too had been wearing with pride a faded military uniform of a now long vanished regiment, belonging to an empire that had ceased to exist in 1918 and who, since the end of the war and the collapse of the Habsburg Monarchy which he and others like him had served so devotedly, now in a pitiful state, begging for charity on the streets of the capital.
Then, suddenly, just behind them in the queue, a scuffle broke out, among the students, one shouting that another had tried to pick his pocket. As the fracas continued, the old man in the ticket booth hurriedly beckoned Friedrich and the boys forward, swiftly took their fares, and just as quickly issued them with their tickets, at the same time repeatedly urging them to move forward into the waiting gondola. This done, the uniformed attendant closed and bolted the door from the outside thus barring the way to anyone else seeking to board that particular gondola. It was only now that, as they took their seats, Friedrich realised the identity of two of those involved in the apparent fracas: Goldstein and Herzog and who, unusually for a pair of Jews, had not been wearing their customary dark attire.
"What was all that about?" asked Danny.
"Apparently one of the young men tried to pick the pocket of another; something like that," explained Friedrich.
There now came a grinding, rasping noise which was made all the more unnerving since it was totally unexpected which was followed in turn by a slight but nonetheless distinct judder before, almost imperceptibly, the enormous wheel and its wooden cabins, each bearing within their fragile cargo of fare paying passengers, began its ascent.
The constant creaking and groaning of the Riesenrad drew gasps of alarm from those still patiently waiting their turn in the queue on the ground, as well as, and with perhaps rather more reason, from those already on board. Sitting next to each other on the slatted wooden seat, the three boys exchanged nervous glances. There was nothing to fear, said Friedrich. In all the years the wheel had been in operation, there had never once been a single accident.
As it began turning, the progress of the Riesenrad was painfully slow; indeed, the huge wheel seemed scarcely to be barely moving at all, but gradually the cabin containing Friedrich and the boys drew away from the boarding platform to be replaced in turn by the one immediately behind it which, from their own elevated position, Friedrich saw fill rapidly with the students from the university. However, given the angle of his observation and the brightness of the afternoon sun whether these included Goldstein and Herzog he couldn't tell.
And so, as the ferris wheel began turning, one by one, each suspended within a pair of steel cradles, the gondolas, depending on where they were in the circle, either descended slowly towards the ground, or else rose upwards, inching their way aloft into the blueness of the afternoon sky.
Drawing Room, Rosenberg.
Awaiting them, they found Captain Heinrich von Iselmann who, save for his fair hair, reminded Matthew painfully of Tibor,, although there any similarity ended; Matthew recognising the man for what he undoubtedly was. After all, he had come across his sort once before, in fact, earlier this same year, when, en route to a clandestine meeting in Limehouse in connection with his duties for the Foreign Office, by awful mischance, he had encountered a group of Oswald Mosley's bullish, swaggering blackshirts, marching down one of the back streets in what, after all, was a predominantly Jewish part of east London.
If the captain reminded Matthew of Tibor, then he seemed more than familiar to Edith herself. Usually she had a good memory for faces, but for one brief instant where it was they had met eluded her. Then she had it. Two years ago: Christmas Eve, 1931, at the Westbahnhof, when some thugs wearing the uniform of the Ostmärkische Sturmscharen of whom the officer of the Bundessicherheitswachekorps now standing over by the tiled stove had been one, had tried to prevent Edith and Max from boarding the express for Salzburg. Fortunately, quite by chance, Conrad too had been at the railway station and had intervened and come to their aid. What would have happened had he not been there to do so, Edith feared to imagine. This had been on the same night that she had helped the group of young Jewish students in Leopoldstadt. As to whether the two incidents had been related even now Edith could not be certain but, at least to a degree, here in Austria these days such occurrences were usually allied to something else.
As to whether the young officer remembered their earlier encounter at the Westbahnhof, Edith couldn't tell but, if he did, he gave no sign of doing so. As they entered the room, smart in his dark green uniform, punctilious in his observation of the courtesies customary on such occasions, the officer came quickly to attention, saluted, and introduced himself.
While Matthew prided himself on having a reasonable command of German, it turned out that Edith was fluent in the language, as well she might be, having resided in Austria for some ten years. Having introduced herself, and also Matthew, she went on to explain that, along with their young son and his two cousins, her husband was presently away from Rosenberg, having caught the mid-morning express into Vienna. Then she suggested they should all sit down at which the captain demurred; said that he preferred to stand, that while he regretted the intrusion, this was not a social call. Edith appeared unperturbed and promptly seated herself on the sofa. indicating that Matthew should do likewise. This done, Edith gave a further explanation, one which was all the more startling because it was patently untrue. Unfortunately, she said, her English brother-in-law, spoke no German. Not a word. Did the captain himself speak English? Regrettably, it transpired that he did not. Turning to Matthew, Edith swiftly told him in English to look suitably bemused. In the circumstances, Matthew said he would have no difficulty in doing exactly as she had just asked him. Turning back to Captain Iselmann, the conversation promptly resumed ... in German.
The captain said that he would come straight to the point. The Junkers, down there in the meadow. Where had it come from, who had been on board it, and why had it landed on Austrian soil?
From Edith's answers, which, of course, Matthew understood only too perfectly, it soon became readily apparent that his sister-in-law was extremely adept in the art of refraining from volunteering information, making it her business to say just enough so as to answer the captain's questions truthfully, while at the same time failing to give anything away, and for which Matthew silently awarded her full marks. Indeed, Edith was almost glib in her answers, explaining that the 'plane had arrived here unexpectedly, which was indeed the case. Exactly where it had come from, she could not say, at least not with any degree of certainty, and which also was true. As to why it had landed here, she understood from its pilot and co-pilot, both of whom were former comrades in arms of her husband, a decorated ace, all three having flown with the Kaiserliche und Königliche Luftfahrtruppen during the Great War, the Junkers had experienced a variety of mechanical problems, including a reoccurring obstruction in the fuel line which caused the water-cooled engine to cut out repeatedly. There had been an issue to with the altimeter too. Or had it been another of the gauges in the cockpit? Then again it might have been something else entirely. Did the captain himself have any knowledge of aeroplanes?
Again Captain Iselmann shook his head. Like Matthew earlier, he appeared somewhat bemused, not to say astonished, saying that it seemed to him as if Frau Schonborn herself had some experience of such matters. When Edith then explained she herself was a qualified pilot, and did indeed possess some knowledge of things aeronautical, Captain Iselmann looked suitably impressed. Whatever it was that had caused the problem, said Edith, it had been necessary to make an emergency landing. Knowing of the presence of the meadow at Rosenberg, the pilots had brought the 'plane into land here. As to passengers, Edith lofted a brow.
"Why, have you not heard ..."
This time Captain Iselmann was just as quick as she.
"Have you?"
Matthew saw instantly the trap the question posed. But in Edith, Captain Iselmann had well and truly met his match. She gave him a long, hard, appraising look before going on to say that there had been no passengers on board the Junkers. Presumably the captain had been listening to scurrilous rumours, from where she could not possibly imagine. In any event, they had been thoroughly discredited by the Roumanian authorities in Bucharest, as well as by the British ambassador in Budapest.
"So, did your relatives not then travel to Budapest?"
Indeed they had, at the invitation of her husband's cousin and his wife. And had returned exactly the same way they had gone. Edith paused. By train.
Iselmann was not convinced.
"And confirmation of this ..."
Assuming a haughty tone, one which Matthew recognised only too well, which Mary likewise could and did assume at will, Edith said she was not used to having her word questioned.
"Confirmation? Is it then your intention to begin questioning other members of my family, our servants, because if so I …"
Iselmann shook his head.
"If you give me your word that what occurred is as you have just stated, then no, that will not be necessary".
Edith said nothing; merely inclined her head in the affirmative.
As to whether Iselmann really believed any of what he had just been told was hard to gauge. Matthew thought it unlikely. Nonetheless, it was also abundantly clear that, whatever the social changes brought about in Austria by both war and revolution, hereabouts the Schönborn name still counted for something and it was obvious that, for all his arrogance and swagger, the officer was treading lightly. At least so far.
Edith forced a smile. Now, what other matter was it that the captain wished to raise?
Aboard The Riesenrad, Wurstelprater, Vienna.
As the great wheel continued to turn, and their own gondola rose higher and higher into the air, there were views to be had not only of the full extent of the Wurstelprater but right across Vienna, much as had been the case but a short while ago in the Watchman's Chamber atop the South Tower of the Stephansdom. After what seemed an age but which in reality could have been no more than but a matter of minutes, the gondola containing Friedrich and the boys reached its zenith where for a few, brief moments, save for a slight oscillation caused by the wind, it remained completely motionless. Friedrich had told the boys to remain seated but unsurprisingly, while not wilfully disobedient, more a response to the continued chivvying of him by his parents to take the utmost care in all that he did, Max took it into his head to kneel up on the slatted seat to gain a better look at what was to be seen.
"Max, sit down!"
At that very same moment, the window beside Max crazed, then shattered, peppering the interior and the floor of the wooden cabin with flying shards of glass. The gondola lurched, swayed violently. Naturally, Friedrich's first concern was for the boys. When the cabin lurched so unexpectedly, Danny and Robert, but thankfully not Max, had been pitched onto the floor. However, now having picked themselves up and dusted themselves down, save for all three being clearly shocked by what had happened, none had sustained even a scratch. Momentarily, Friedrich thought it might have been a pigeon which had flown into one of the windows - after all it had happened before - but then amongst the broken glass littering the floor he saw the bullet; a 9mm round from a Mauser P08. Then, through the broken glass came the roar of the wind, followed seconds later by a piercing scream.
Looking down, Friedrich saw a figure, a man he thought, fall from the open door of the gondola below their own; watched in horror as, arms and legs flailing, the figure plunged headlong towards the ground, bouncing off the steel cables and ironwork of the wheel, before very quickly hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. No-one could have survived a fall like that but, how on earth had the door come open? After all, it would have been secured from the outside by those on duty down below. A faulty catch then. It had to be that. Unless …
Herzog's words, uttered in a rapid, hushed tone in the privacy of the Watchman's Chamber of the Stephansdom now came back to haunt him.
Have no worries, he will be taken care of.
It seemed that, as with all members of the secretive Jüdische Selbstwehr, Herzog was very much a man of his word. With realisation fast dawning of what it was that had occurred here, Friedrich blanched.
Far below the gondolas, in the immediate vicinity of the great wheel, down on the ground, through the shattered window of their cabin, Friedrich glimpsed a sea of white, upturned faces, of people who, realising that something had happened, were gazing up at the Riesenrad, pointing and gesticulating. at its now motionless rake of cabins.
"What is it, Papa? Why have we stopped moving?" Max asked. At the same time, Danny made to stand up intending to try and obtain a better view of what had happened by looking out of the shattered window.
"No, Danny! Sit down!" his uncle ordered crisply.
The boy flushed to the very roots of his dark thatch of hair but nonetheless sat back down immediately, hard on the seat. Not since he was a little lad had anyone spoken to him like that. Well, perhaps Ma, but nobody else. And certainly not Da. Danny now looked up; dared to venture a question.
"What's … what's happened, Uncle Friedrich?"
His uncle did his best to make amends. He smiled.
"I'm sorry I shouted at you, Danny … There's been an accident; someone fell from one of the cabins. It's not pleasant …"
Drawing Room, Rosenberg.
When it came to the second matter which had brought him here, the captain was on rather firmer ground. Did Edith know of a family by the name of Muller? Playing for time, giving nothing away, Edith said there were several families of that surname in the locality, now asked for further information which Iselmann duly provided, explaining that the family in question lived down below, in the valley, close to St. Johann, where they kept the inn. Edith shook her head, said she didn't know them which was true enough insofar as she knew of them. Not that she told iselmann that, nor that they were related in some way, albeit distantly, to the parents of Ralf, the young boy who had tried to teach Max how to ride a bicycle. Iselmann now went on to explain that a serious crime had been committed, one which was presently under investigation. The eldest son of the family, named Hans, aged twenty three, had been found hanged. In woodland. An isolated spot. On the edge of the Rosenberg estate.
Not that she said so, but Edith seemed to recall hearing that Hans Muller was deeply involved with one of the right wing para military organisations of which there were several here in Austria. That there had been some unpleasantness involving two students out from Vienna who had rented a cottage on the Rosenberg estate. At the time it soon began to be whispered that the two young men were more than just friends. Whatever the truth of it, there had been an incident down at the inn where they had been roughed up by several local lads of whom Hans Muller had been one. That he had also been involved in the wrecking of the Café Sperlhof in Vienna last year.
Iselmann seemed surprised that Frau Schönborn did not know the family. Edith countered by saying that Rosenberg was a large estate, with a sizeable staff both inside the house and beyond. That being so, she could hardly be expected to know everyone hereabouts by name, let alone those from further afield. Borrowing a line which could have come straight from Mary herself, Edith went on to say, in a tone that was suitably dismissive, that she did not concern herself with such minutiae.
Hearing this, Matthew did his best not to smile, knowing in reality that the exact reverse was true. As far as Friedrich and Edith were concerned, here at Rosenberg, all on the estate had their part to play, and so they made it their business to know everyone in their employ; just as Matthew himself had done since he had taken over the reins at Downton. However, so as to reinforce what she had just said, Edith added that overseeing the running of the house was the responsibility of both the butler and housekeeper while matters relating to the farms, the fields, the woods, and so forth, were the concern of the estate manager. All this apart, both she and her husband were often away. But surely, the captain knew that?
Iselmann nodded. While he seemed satisfied, he said that it was the business of those in the Bundessicherheitswachekorps, just as it was of those in the Bundesgendarmerie, to be well informed. That, for instance, they were well aware that the Schönborns' eldest son did not enjoy robust health. By the way, exactly where was the boy? He trusted he was not, indisposed? Edith said that she had already told him. Her son was with his father and cousins … in Vienna. Indeed, yes, that had been checked. Then why ask? Iselmann chose to ignore the question. Now went on to say that the Bundessicherheitswachekorps was equally cognisant that the Schönborns were often abroad on their archaeological excavations, where they went, with whom they met … Again the captain paused. Just as equally they knew who came here to the house, be they visitors from abroad – his eyes rested momentarily on Matthew - or those from closer at hand … from say … Vienna. To be more precise, in this case, from Leopoldstadt.
Once again, Edith's face betrayed nothing of her innermost feelings, saying merely that she was flattered that the Bundessicherheitswachekorps should take such an interest in the private affairs of one family. At that, Iselmann permitted himself the briefest of smiles, assuring Edith that they were interested in everyone, particularly those who ... how should he put it? Perhaps Frau Schönborn could be of assistance. Edith shrugged. Said she did not follow what the captain meant.
"Oh, I think you do".
"I do not".
"Then let me explain. We in the Bundessicherheitswachekorps are especially concerned with those who have no part to play in the new Austria, who are not wanted here, as neither are their sympathisers, those who are known to share the same diseased political affiliations and views, ones which are not conducive to the good order and well being of the republic … social deviants malcontents, riff-raff, and scum, such as the Jews, as well as those who choose to consort with them".
Edith said nothing.
Iselmann went onto say that it was the considered opinion of the Bundessicherheitswachekorps that what on the face of it appeared to have been a tragic suicide was anything but that. The Muller boy had been murdered and that he had reason to believe that the Jüdische Selbstwehr was somehow involved. While enquiries were at but an early stage, make no mistake, they would continue and, were the Bundessicherheitswachekorps to find out that … But he was certain Frau Schönborn understood entirely what would follow.
"Are you threatening me, captain?"
"Oh, be assured, I never threaten. I may warn. You would do well to heed that. And one thing more …"
Iselmann paused.
While his words were for Edith, he now looked directly down at Matthew.
"Frau Schönborn, let me be very plain. Your English and Irish relatives would do well to return to their own countries. Their kind too are not wanted here. Not in the new Austria. They have reservations booked for them in the Calais coach of the westbound Orient Express which departs from Vienna in but a few days from now. For your sake, and for theirs, make sure they are on it. Tell them so".
Whether the captain had guessed that Matthew did indeed understand German was unclear. However, assuming that he had not been rumbled, Matthew took care to ensure that his face did not betray him; continued with the pretence of not understanding a word of what was being said. So, his expression registered nothing, and, in a skilful piece of play acting, he now looked inquiringly at Edith, as if seeking enlightenment while at the same time found himself remembering back to January 1921 when he and Mary had gone in search of Tom who had disappeared following the burning of Cork. Then, Matthew's attempts to find out what had become of his brother-in-law had been met almost with a wall of silence by the British administration based at Dublin Castle, with whom at the time Tom was very much a persona non grata. This had culminated in Matthew being told in no uncertain terms by an odious individual - Major Percival - to leave Ireland forthwith. Now, here in Austria, it seemed that he had the misfortune to encounter another officer of much the same ilk.
Seemingly unperturbed, Edith rose gracefully to her feet; drew herself up to her full height. Her expression was a mixture of both contempt and disdain.
"You forget yourself, captain. I need no advice from you, neither on matters appertaining to railway timetables, nor regarding the well being of my own family".
Captain Iselmann shrugged.
"As you please". Seeing Edith about to ring for a servant, Iselmann shook his head. "No, don't bother with that. I am perfectly capable of finding my own way out".
Nonetheless, Edith still pressed firmly on the bell.
"It's no bother. None whatsoever. After all, I'm not offering to attend you myself. However, this is a very large house, and I would be sorely distressed if you were to lose your way in trying to find the front door". In fact, Edith could not have cared less if Iselmann had tripped headlong, fallen down the coal hole, and broken his blasted neck, save for the undoubted inconvenience of it all.
A moment later and Kleist re-entered the room.
"Kleist, would you kindly escort the captain to the front door and then see that he leaves this house".
"Very good, madam. This way if you please, sir".
At which point Edith deliberately turned her back on Captain Iselmann; stood looking out of the window, over towards the terrace where she caught sight of Mary sitting with the children, their hunt for lizards seemingly at an end.
Edith remained standing exactly where she was until she heard the door softly close behind her. Then she swung round.
"What a perfectly odious young man".
Matthew rose to his feet.
"My thoughts entirely. If it's any consolation, Edith, which I somehow doubt, it's becoming the same all over Europe; demagogues, rabble-rousers, and even worse taking over". Of course, Matthew was singularly unaware that Sybil had said almost the same thing to Tom but an hour or so since. "However, none of us want to endanger Friedrich, you, or the children. So, if you think it best that we all depart …"
Edith shook her head decisively.
"Nonsense. Friedrich would never hear of it. And neither will I! You'll leave as arranged. Perhaps, given what you've been through, even stay on for a while. Besides, darling Max would never forgive either of us if he had to part company with Danny and Rob any sooner than intended. Now, I think I need some fresh air. Coming?"
For all that, Edith's mind was in a whirl; wondering what she should say to Friedrich when he returned. They had no secrets from each other, so, the truth of course. And, as for Wyss and Salvatore, irrespective of any promises that might have been made to Max, it would be better for them and for everyone else if they did not delay their departure any longer than was strictly necessary.
Matthew nodded.
"Certainly. Shall we go and find out how Mary's fared in her hunt for lizards?"
All the same Matthew could not help but feel that here at Rosenberg it would be better for all concerned if the Bransons and the Crawleys left Austria as scheduled a matter of days hence. And, tonight, after Friedrich and the boys had returned from Vienna, he would make it his business to reiterate what he had said earlier, about being prepared to help if things in Austria deteriorated to the point where staying on became untenable. If that happened, then it was vital that the Schönborns had a plan which, without attracting attention, would enable all of them to leave the country at a moment's notice.
On The Terrace, Rosenberg shortly thereafter.
Outside on the terrace, Matthew and Edith found the children sitting in the sunshine in the wicker chairs while Mary read them a story; something which she never did at home. A moment later, hand in hand, Tom and Sybil arrived back on the terrace from the lower gardens.
"Just where have you two been?" asked Mary, laying aside the much worn copy of The House At Pooh Corner which, along with Winnie-The-Pooh, Simon had brought with him to Austria. They were his two favourite stories; he secretly identifying as Christopher Robin, with Oscar assuming the guise of Pooh, made easier by the fact that, back at Downton, close to Home Farm, there was a large spinney which, at least for Simon if for no-one else, doubled as The Hundred Acre Wood of the story.
"For a very long walk," replied Sybil archly, before sinking down contentedly into one of the wicker chairs, kicking off her shoes, and massaging her toes, something which, when they were at home in Blackrock,Tom often did for her, especially after she had been on her feet all day pounding the wards of the Rotunda Hospital in Dublin. Behind her Tom scrambled up and perched himself on the balustrade, looking for all the world much as Bobby had done a short while earlier, and, if the truth be told, rather pleased with himself. As well he might.
"And?" asked Mary.
"And, what?" retorted Edith.
"Those men, what did they want?"
"Which men?" asked Tom, clearly mystified, the two motors belonging to the Bundessicherheitswachekorps not having arrived at Rosenberg until some time after he and Sybil had left the house.
Edith looked sideways at Matthew.
"I think it's better if you explain what's happened," he said.
Edith nodded.
"Yes, of course," she said softly. "But not now. Later, after Friedrich has returned from Vienna, and the children are all in bed".
"And?" asked Matthew, now looking directly at Mary.
"And what?" she asked, her tone deadpan, sensing what was to come.
"Did you find any?"
"Did I find any what?"
"Lizards".
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yes," said Matthew, trying desperately to keep a straight face,"I really want to know".
"No, you don't".
"Yes, I do".
"Matthew, darling, we could continue having this conversation until one of us dies!"
Fortunately, Tom now interrupted.
"Ya been hunting for lizards, Mary?" He lofted a brow. "Why, some people have all the fun, for sure".
"That's not quite how I'd choose to describe it," retorted Mary tartly.
"Aunt Mary was just grand, Da!" piped Bobby. "She's been reading us all a story, about a bear called Pooh and his friends. There's a donkey in it called Eeyore". Bobby made a braying sound, then giggled.
Tom nodded.
"Was she now?" He grinned.
Mary's eyes narrowed.
"You needn't sound quite so surprised, Paddy O'Reilly!"
"For sure, she was!" exclaimed Saiorse indignantly "Aunt Mary did all the voices too. Just like ya do, Da. My favourite's Tigger. He's very bouncy, for sure!" As well he might be thought Sybil with resignation, while Saiorse, as if to emphasise the point she had just made, bounced hard several times on the seat of her chair.
"Mama was absolutely marvellous, Papa," whispered Simon shyly.
"Thank you, my darlings". Mary smiled.
The Riesenrad, Wurstelprater, Vienna.
After what seemed to have been an interminable age, finally the Riesenrad began to move again, and for all its passengers, including Friedrich and the three boys, this meant an excruciatingly slow descent back down the ground. Once there, everyone who had been trapped aboard the gondolas were shepherded quickly away from the great wheel, their path to freedom made easier by the cordon of armed gendarmes intent on keeping back the crowds of would-be onlookers. Not that that this prevented Friedrich from seeing what the boys and seemingly others did not; lying on a stretcher, the face and upper torso hastily covered with a tattered army greatcoat, the body of the victim, and but a short distance away, seemingly unnoticed by the group of officials deep in conversation, standing nearby, a medal with a grey green ribbon. There was something else too. The bloodstained, faded uniform the man was wearing did not seem to fit him. It was almost as if ... as if it was not his own. And there was one thing more. The body lying prostrate on the stretcher clearly had two arms. Yet how on earth …
All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword said a familiar voice softly, close at Friedrich's elbow, but when he turned to look at who it was, there was no-one to be seen; save for the fast retreating back of a man who a moment later had disappeared, swallowed up among the crowd of bystanders, so much so that Friedrich could not be certain if it was he who had spoken to him or not. Or, if he had ever been there in the first place.
A short while later, Friedrich stood and waited patiently while the boys purchased a small selection of bonbons, Punschkrapfen, and Sacherwürfel, from one of the stalls selling confectionery and sweetmeats, for Saiorse, Simon, Bobby, and Rebecca. Among the goodly selection of bonbons were some chocolate-coated almonds which, said Robert, would do very nicely for Saiorse.
Danny shook his head.
"I thought I told ya, Rob, sis doesn't like nuts".
"Exactly!" laughed Robert, with a knowing smirk. "They're actually for Si', but I'll give them to Saiorse first. By mistake of course. Just to see the look on her face when she tries one!"
Danny sniggered.
All the same, he took care to see that among their purchases was something which his sister would like.
For all that the sun still shone, there seemed to be a distinct chill in the afternoon air. It was as if what had happened on the Riesenrad had somehow contrived to suck the very warmth out of the day, so much so, that with their purchases of confectionery now made, when Friedrich suggested to the boys they walk back to the tram stop, in order to begin to retrace their steps to the Westbahnhof, they raised no objection.
Their journey back on the crowded, clanging tram, winding its way through the bustling streets of Vienna to the railway station, proved uneventful. Thereafter, the Salzburg express was prompt in its departure from the Westbahnhof. On the way back to St. Johann, with the boys seemingly none the worse for what had happened at the Riesenrad, lost in thought, Friedrich sat gazing out of the window of their compartment, staring at the passing countryside, mulling over in his mind just what he should say to Edith about what had happened.
The truth, naturally.
At least, as he assumed it to be.
Later that same afternoon, in a cloud of steam and smoke, the heavy express drew slowly to a stand at the wayside station of St. Johann where Friedrich and the boys climbed down from the train to be met in the forecourt by Weisman in his livery sitting at the wheel of the waiting Mercedes. Then, with Friedrich and the boys seated in the motor, the chauffeur set off, driving them back sedately along the narrow winding country road which led from the station to Rosenberg, the air heavy with the scent of pine trees and new mown hay.
Author's Note:
The original Nordbahnhof railway station no longer exists. Badly damaged during WWII, it has since been rebuilt, twice.
Admiral Wilhelm von Tegetthoff (1827-1871) an Austrian admiral (when Austria then part of the Austro-Hungarian empire had a sea coast) who fought in several naval actions during the mid nineteenth century.
Earling. It is well known that in the 1920s and '30s the then Prince of Wales, later briefly Edward VIII, who, while wanting all the perks but none of the responsibilities of being royal born (a century later some things never change!) detested his duties, referring to them with contempt as "princing".
GPO - the General Post Office - one of Dublin's most famous buildings owing to it being garrisoned and held by the rebels as their headquarters during the Easter Rising of 1916.
Käsekrainer - a sausage made of pork and cheese.
Bundessicherheitswachekorps - Federal Security Guard Corps, the armed and uniformed civilian guard of the Republic of Austria. In the 1930s, as the political situation in the country deteriorated, the Security Guard Corps was increasingly used to crackdown on those considered to be opponents of the government.
Bundesgendarmerie - the federal police service of the Republic of Austria.
Ostmärkische Sturmscharen - a right wing paramilitary group (of which there were several) founded in Austria in December 1930.
The gazebo or summerhouse may sound familiar. It actually exists. Now standing in the grounds of the Schloss Hellbrunn, Salzburg, it was used to good effect in the film The Sound of Music for the song Sixteen going On Seventeen. And, just as in the film the rain drives Rolf and Liesl inside, so too in the story for Tom and Sybil.
The description and number of the gondolas of the Riesenrad is as they were before the ferris wheel suffered serious damage at the end of WWII.
The wrecking of the Café Produktenbörse in 1929 and the Café Sperlhof in 1932 were but two of many such incidents which occurred in Vienna during the early 1930s in which the Jewish community and their property were deliberately targeted by Nazi thugs.
For what happened when Matthew and Mary crossed to Ireland in search of Tom, see my first story, Home Is Where The Heart Is.
The incident involving the two young men from Vienna who came to stay on the estate at Rosenberg is alluded to in my story The Snow Waltz.
Written nearly a century ago, by A. A. Milne (1882-1956) his stories of Winnie-the-Pooh and The House At Pooh Corner, whose characters were inspired by his young son's stuffed animals, remain as popular as ever.
Punschkrapfen - small sponge cakes or fancies filled with jam and covered with a pink glaze.
Sacherwürfel - small chocolate cakes filled with apricot jam.