A/N: I still don't own any aspect of The Sound of Music, including the characters.
Big thank you to my new Beta, Shahrazad63. Not only is she writing her own brilliant story, but she did wonderful work with this chapter.
Finally, please review. It makes a big difference in the velocity with which I churn out this story.
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Georg's trepidation turned to alarm as he watched Maria go absolutely white. He had never seen her like this before, not even when she had returned from the abbey and heard about his engagement to Elsa. Concerned that Maria might not remain standing, Georg immediately grabbed her by the elbows, holding her up, and maneuvered her over to his chair so that she wouldn't faint. Once she was sitting he walked to the other side of his office, glad he already had some good brandy stocked there.
As a former Naval officer, Georg had seen these signs before. The whiteness, the unsteadiness, the absent look in her eyes, they were all familiar. Men under his command had sometimes looked and acted this way after a particularly traumatizing experience – most commonly after they had first killed another man face to face. Now his wife was stunned - no shocked – to hear what he had done.
He hated what this news was doing to her, and he hated that the ramifications of his actions probably wouldn't end quickly or easily.
Georg practically forced her to take a swallow of the alcohol, his hand holding the glass over hers. Maria coughed a bit and he could see the color return to her face. He urged her to take another swallow and she did so without his aid. His beautiful wife was beginning to look more and more like herself again – except for her eyes. Her eyes still had a vacant look in them. Still, he was reassured that she was recovering and so he walked around the table and took the seat opposite hers.
"You killed two men?" she finally asked him slowly.
"Maria, I had no other choice," Georg explained. "Believe me, I wish I hadn't had to kill them for – for so many reasons." And he told her the story of the night before, the story that she had been asking to hear.
As Georg told her the dreadful story he could still hear Gustav playing the movement from Sibelius' Violin Concerto.(1) He wondered once again how such beauty could still exist in a world where so much evil was brewing, where men were forced to kill each other, especially when he was forced to kill in order to defend that beauty.
"What did you do with them?" she finally asked.
"What do you mean what did I do with them?" Georg asked in confusion. Had she not understood anything that he was saying? Had she not understood that he had killed them?
"The… the bodies, what did you do with them?" she asked.
He felt a moment's relief that she had understood him, but then felt his stomach turn over as he explained that he had hidden them under two German cars.
Maria nodded absently. "So they won't be found until…?" she let her question trail off.
Georg would have been relieved to see her nod, but not at the fact that he had hidden the bodies under cars. Nod her understanding that he had done the only possible thing, nod that he had no other choice, yes. But nod at the grisly fact that he had hidden the bodies for the night? Something was still very wrong.
"I don't know," he answered with a deep sigh. It was one of the many questions he had been asking himself over and over. "I assume that they've been found by now, but I don't think it would be a good idea to inquire." He ran his hand over his face and back through his hair in frustration. God, he wished he knew what was happening.
She nodded again and he grew even more perplexed. This was not his Maria. Scream, cry, scold him, lecture him, tell him she understood, tell him she didn't understand, dress him down! But passively agreeing with him? No. This was not his Maria.
If anything this was the awkward but irresistible postulant and governess who had once stammered through professions of love, back on that beautiful night in the gazebo when life was still easy. Back in Aigen, before the Anschluss. Back before they were sure of each other's love. This was not the woman who had grown into his wife and partner over the last few months. This was not the woman whose strength had made their escape through the Alps possible.
"What are we going to do?" she asked, and he realized what was wrong.
She wasn't there anymore. She wasn't scared, she wasn't angry, she wasn't … she wasn't anything. She was going through the motions, partnering with him to deal with yet another emergency, but her spirit had flown.
'Where are you Maria?' he silently asked. 'Are you in a safer place where no one kills and where the Nazis don't exist? Are you back at the Abbey? Or are you beyond the Abbey and already in the mountains?'
He wished he could join her, wherever she was, that they could run into the mountains together and never have to deal with Nazis or politics or war … But that was fantasy. That world didn't exist. And someone had to be here, trying to get them out of this new nightmare. And he needed his wife back.
"Maria, I had to do it," Georg repeated. "If I hadn't done it, we'd have been found. How much do you think the Swiss would have done to protect a new political refugee with the Germans pressing on them? And if we were to get handed over, I can't bear to think what they would have done to you and the children…," his voice broke.
She nodded once again and he wanted to stand up and shake her, yell at her to do something other than nod. But he restrained himself, knowing that an outburst like that could easily push her away all the more while she was still in this state. So he continued talking to her, all the while feeling as though his heart was breaking.
He took her hands in his. They were cold yet oddly steady. "Maria, my love, we have to face the fact that we are alone. No one is going to fight for us – for our freedom or our safety. We have to do that ourselves."
He rubbed her hands gently in his, trying to warm them up. "I'm sorry to say that we're going to have to leave again. Leave Dorfli. Leave Switzerland."
Another nod. "That won't be easy on the children," she told him, as if he hadn't been going over every other possible option for just that reason for the past several hours.
"I know that," he agreed. "But we don't have another choice. I must… we must keep the family safe."
Maria shrugged. "If we must, we must. Where must we go?"
"We have to get out of Europe," he told her, squeezing her hands a bit more tightly. "I was too optimistic to try to build a life for us here. Last night I saw first hand how powerful the Third Reich is getting, with officers inside Swiss borders. There's no guarantee that they won't do to Switzerland what they did to Austria – or worse. We have to get out of Europe while we still can. While we are still legal immigrants here. Being on the run again is … it's unthinkable. Especially with seven children. We have to leave before the borders are so guarded that we can't leave. And we have to leave before – before someone links those bodies with the violinists, and with me."
"Where…" once again she let the question trail off.
"America," he told her gently. "At least," he continued, trying to add some false optimism to his voice "we won't have to go over the mountains on foot. And at least we can bring some luggage!"
Suddenly, to Georg's relief, Maria's eyes filled with tears.
"America," she repeated, and began to cry.
As much as Georg hated to see Maria – or any woman for that matter – cry, he was happier to see her finally react. He knew how to handle this.
Georg got up, walked around to the other side of his desk, pulled his wife out of the chair and held her close, letting her cry onto his jacket.
"How could this have happened?" she asked through her tears.
"I don't know," Georg responded honestly, and gently ran his hand through her hair.
"The kittens," she added, trying to get control of her breath, "we have to bring the kittens. The children will take it so much harder if we don't."
A wave of surprise passed over Georg. The kittens? At a time like this? She was thinking about the kittens – of all things – now? It still felt as though she wasn't there. She was finally showing some emotion, but all she seemed to care about were the children and the kittens. This entire conversation was increasingly surreal to him.
He wanted to shake her and tell her to forget about the damn kittens, they were on a run for their lives again. And kittens made the trip to France exponentially more difficult. How were they going to convince anyone that they were going for a brief vacation with their kittens?
But she knew the children and she was right in that regard. If they had to leave everything once again: the home they were finally feeling comfortable in, the friends they had just started to allow themselves to love, the town they had been getting to know, then they also had to bring something with them. And some of them in particular would never get over leaving those small, adorable (yes, he had to agree they were adorable) kittens behind.
"The kittens. Right," he agreed reluctantly. "We'll have to figure think about that one."
"Oh, Georg," she said, the tears starting anew. "Does it have to be America?"
"Yes." He was firm on that. "We cannot stay in Europe. It would be too irresponsible. We have the best chance to make a life for ourselves – a good life – and stay safe, in America."
She looked up at him, tears still in her eyes, and shook her head in a silent 'no'.
"Maria," he said more firmly, "we can't stay in Europe. It's too dangerous. America is the safest place for us to go. They have a strong military – even if the war goes that far – we'll be more protected there than anywhere. And the children," he added, knowing she was still thinking of them "they all speak such good English, it'll be easier for them to adjust there than a country where they don't speak the language."
"I don't," she said, in a barely audible whisper.
Georg looked down into her eyes and his heart broke a little more. "You will," he answered encouragingly, and reached up his hand to caress her face. "We'll help you."
"It's so big – so far away."
"I know," he agreed, "but that's why it's the best place to go. And there are mountains. I hear parts of it are very beautiful. As long as we're together we can be happy anywhere. You've taught me that!" He meant what he said, but his enthusiasm felt forced.
Maria took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped back a bit, clutching at his jacket. "Your jacket?" she asked.
Georg was suddenly lost again. "What?" he asked utterly confused.
"Last night, what happened to your jacket?" she asked, more clearly.
"Oh." They had gone from talking about moving and back to last night. He wished for a moment that they would never have to talk about it again, but he knew that wasn't possible. "I burned it."
The absent look had crept back into Maria's eyes and she nodded slightly and continued to step back until she was out of his embrace.
"Do they know?" There was no question that "they" meant the violinists rather than the children.
"No," he answered. "No one knows except you."
Maria looked down and said something under her breath.
"What was that?" he asked, slightly more sharply than he had intended.
"Nothing. I had better check on the children." She turned to walk out of his office but turned back to add "and our guests."
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Georg slumped down into his chair. That had gone – not well. What had just happened?
He needed Maria, Oh, God, did he need her. More than ever. But he needed her heart and her spirit and her strength, not just her acquiescence. He'd far rather have her bickering with him than passively agreeing with what he said, as she had just done. Although she had made it clear she did not like the idea of America.
'Where else could we go,' Georg asked himself once again, but there was still no other answer.
He thought he had heard Maria whisper under her breath. Something about God. Maybe even that God knew what he had done. He reminded himself once more that Maria had been very close to being a nun. She was the religious and spiritual core of their family. The thought of killing a man – he couldn't think of it as murder – had to be weighing on her as a terrible sin.
He closed his eyes but all he could see were the faces of the men that he had killed. Were they German or Austrian? Did it even matter anymore? Kobb and – he didn't even know the other man's name. Just Kobb. "Kobb knows cars," he thought to himself. "No, Kobb knew cars," he then corrected.
Then he slammed his fist down on the table in frustration with himself. He couldn't afford to waste time indulging in how he felt. Like it or not he was on a mission, just as if he had been given orders by a commanding officer.
He needed to hear more of the details of the violinists' departure, and the concert, from Ernst, but he could at least begin planning how his family would get out of Switzerland. This time they would not be walking for their very survival. Not while he still had breath in his body. And he'd figure out how to cart along kittens as well.
The Captain knew France fairly well. Along with being trained in Italy and temporarily stationed in England, he had traveled extensively after Agathe's death.
If they caught a ship in Geneva and took it to France, they should be able to easily reach Grenoble before night. This time, they were not going to try to sneak out of the country at night. They would leave as publicly as possible and hopefully that would be the most convincing departure.
He picked up the phone and in a few minutes was connected to the Chateau de la Commanderie, just outside of Grenoble. It was a beautiful hotel, a former castle set in the Alps. Just the sort of place a Baron might take his family for a holiday. Within a few more minutes he had reserved their best suite for a week, arriving in two days. It wasn't difficult, not many people were taking holidays anymore. At least the first part of their journey would be luxurious.
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Maria walked through the house just as she had done the night before. She hadn't realized how much she had come to love this home until now. "Home" was still the villa in Aigen, but this was the house where she had first lived with Georg as husband and wife. It was here in Dorfli that she had officially stepped into her role as mother to the children. Here, where she and Georg had their first fight – well, their first fight as a married couple. Here where they had reconciled and grown to love each other more deeply. Here, where the Alps could still lift her spirits, where the edelweiss grew, where the sky was so blue she felt she could drown in it. She touched one of the walls and fought back tears.
America seemed like a prison sentence rather than a future possibility. While they had been in Switzerland she had still felt connected to Austria. The mountains and flowers she loved were here as well. All of their favorite things, as she had told Gretl. America was so foreign, so far away. And the English…
Maria ran her hand over the wall and wondered when it would all end, when they would finally have peace. When they could stop running. When would she be able to truly settle down with the man she loved and raise his children without worrying about staying alive all the time?
Suddenly, the thought of what Georg had done the previous night flooded her mind and she could feel her stomach churn. He had killed. It didn't matter if they were German or Swiss or Austrian. It didn't matter if they had been Hitler or Max. They were men. Men who had a life until it had been ended so abruptly by her husband. Men who had parents that they would never come home to. Did they have sweethearts or wives? Children who would grow up without a father? She hurried up to her bedroom and into the bathroom. With each of those deaths, a door had been closed forever. There was no window to be opened.
She knelt over the commode and emptied the contents of her stomach into it.
Was it possible for God to close a door and not open a window? If so, this was it. Death. No – not death. Killing. This was the worst sin imaginable: killing another man. Georg had committed the worst sin possible.
Maria leaned back against the wall of the bathroom, still sitting on the floor. She was trying to merge the man she loved so much with the man she had heard about – the man who had killed just last night. Her head knew that they were the same man, but her heart wouldn't quite let her believe it.
Maria almost felt like she was trying to do simple arithmetic but had to prove that two plus two equaled five. It was all just so wrong.
While she had been in his office she had felt as though she was perched like a bird on the top left corner of the room, watching what was happening but not involved.
The removed part had seen his desk swim in front of her until the brandy – like fire – had made the room clear and steady again. The removed part of her had heard about details and plans as though they were discussing a dinner menu.
Now she had come down from the safe perch and felt like a child standing in front of a blackboard trying to solve a simple but impossible equation.
She knew he had killed before, but that had always seemed so remote – so far away - from the man she fell in love with and married. Now, sitting back against the wall of the bathroom, Maria realized that she hadn't really let herself think about it before.
Her husband was responsible for sinking – oh, many ships. Maria realized she didn't even know how many. But it was enough to be awarded the Maria Theresien Cross. And with each ship there must have been so many lives lost.
Yet that still seemed so long ago. He had been at war, fighting other people at war. They had all known what they were risking.
She shook her head. Maybe it was wrong, but sinking an enemy ship – even many enemy ships – over two decades ago, just felt so different than killing two men as they walked out of a pub.
Or was that wrong? Was there a difference or did she just want there to be a difference?
She wished with all her heart that she could talk to the Reverend Mother. Somehow that formidable woman had always been able to make sense of things that Maria could not.
'What do I already know?' Maria asked herself. She loved God. She knew to listen to God and obey Him. She knew that God had led her to Georg and that He had not led her astray. Whether or not Georg had killed during the Great War, God had still led them to each other. God had been with them while they fell in love, married, escaped from Austria and settled in Dorfli. Was God still with them now, she wondered.
The idea occurred to Maria so suddenly that she felt as though it could only be an answer to prayer. Georg had confessed about the lives he had taken during the war. He had been wiped clean of those actions. Yet he still bore the guilt of having killed last night. There was a difference.
God was still with them but she and Georg had to do their parts as well. God couldn't do all the work for them.
Maria sat up a little straighter. The idea of confessing, and of making things right with God again, felt like a life boat -she had been drowning in confusion, in grief, in the sickening wrongness of the situation. But now she felt like she had just been given something she could hold onto.
If Georg went to confession then he could be free of this sin. If he truly repented, prayed for forgiveness, and confessed to a priest, then everything might be okay again. It would allow him to make things right with God again. She would confess as well, she decided. She hadn't done anything specific, yet she felt a sickening sense of guilt just through being so close to these killings.
The thought of both of them going to confession was enough to get Maria up off the bathroom floor, straighten her hair, and splash some water on her face. She walked out of the bathroom, out of the bedroom, and towards the stairs, determined to talk to him immediately about going to confession.
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As Maria started to walk downstairs, she heard someone at the door and knew that it must be Ernst Schmidt. Very well, she would wait to discuss confession with Georg after Ernst left. She put on her best "everything's fine" face and walked down to greet him.
Georg was relieved to hear Ernst arrive. Once Georg knew more of the man's plans to get the violinists out of Switzerland, it would enable him to make his own plans. He was mildly surprised to see Maria walk downstairs and greet Ernst as pleasantly and as sweetly as if the events of the past day were nothing but a forgotten bad dream.
"Baroness," Ernst greeted her as he politely bent over her hand. "I'm so glad to see you again. I look forward to discussing your upcoming concert."
"We were just preparing for it," Maria informed him. "And as luck would have it, we have three friends visiting us from Austria who happen to be musicians." Here she wrapped her arm around Georg's waist.
"I'm happy to hear it," he replied smoothly. "Tell me, Baron, were there any problems having them come through from Austria?"
"No problems at all," Georg lied, just as smoothly. "Would you like to meet them, Herr Schmidt?"
"Oh, most definitely," Ernst responded. "You say they are musicians? What are their instruments?"
"All three of them are violinists, if you can believe it" Maria told him. "Remarkably it's the instrument that our youngest but one, Marta, has shown some interest in." This conversation was beginning to feel painfully surreal. If she continued to lie like this, Maria thought to herself, she was going to have plenty to confess.
The three of them walked towards the back of the house where the children were with Gustav, Ada and Irma.
Georg could not get over how easily his wife lied. He had a taste of it during their conversation outside of the villa with Herr Zeller, but especially given what had just happened, she was putting on quite a performance here. A few more pieces of their escape began to fit together in his head. If Maria could lie – could act – this well, it might provide them with an invaluable cover.
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Ernst met the violinists with the same polite ease that he used with Georg and Maria. He reminded Georg a little of Max, not in looks but in manner. 'Smoothness must be a part of being an impresario,' he noted to himself.
The three guests were not quite as smooth as Ernst when they met him. All a little too eager, a little too grateful to just be meeting a friend of a friend.
Soon, Ernst and Gustav were talking music and concerts and Georg had to feign patience. There was so much to do! So much to figure out! He needed to know the details for their voyage and Maria's concert, yet he stood there, listening, as though he didn't have a care in the world.
Eventually the conversation turned to the concert and Georg sighed in silent relief.
"I do apologize, Baroness," Ernst was saying. I told you the concert would be in Geneva but as it turns out, I was able to find a better venue for you in Montreux. Do you know it? It's a wonderful town with a rich musical history. It's right on lake as well. Not far from Lausanne." There was a slight emphasis on the last town, and he looked pointedly at Georg.
"Well, on that note," Georg said, wincing at his own bad joke, "I'll take my leave. Do come see me before you leave, Herr Schmidt." He walked back to his office, leaving Maria, Ernst and the other musicians discussing the program for the concert. The Captain knew everything he needed to continue with his plans. Montreux was perfect, he knew it fairly well. It was very close to the most luxurious palace-hotel in Switzerland. He had heard that the hotel had changed management recently and wasn't faring as well under the change, but it would still do very well for their needs. The Von Trapps would stay there the night of the concert, and from Lausanne sail to France. He would have to get the violinists to Lausanne during the concert in the afternoon. Then the family would unite at the hotel.
This escape was not only looking possible, but each development was making it easier.
'More windows opening?' Georg mused to himself.
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"Well, Captain, my congratulations and my gratitude. They are all here safely." Ernst smiled at Georg but his smile quickly faded when Georg didn't met it with a smile of his own.
There were no problems in getting them at the border?" Ernst asked, now sitting across from Georg in his office.
"I was slightly delayed, but no," the Captain answered. "No real problems."
He wanted to trust someone, and he felt that if he could trust anyone it would be this man who was risking so much to help three people escape. But he just couldn't take the chance.
"I don't suppose you'd know anything about the two bodies that were found at the same station this morning?"
"I hadn't heard anything about it," Georg replied calmly.
"Two men. Both, unfortunately, German officers. I don't know any more than that." Ernst hadn't taken his eyes off of Georg's face.
"German officers behind a Swiss border?" Georg asked with feigned surprise. Then he shrugged. "Whatever happened must have occurred after I was there.
"You did say you were delayed…" Ernst let his words trail off, making it clear that he was asking a question.
"Yes, car trouble. Nothing significant," Georg told him. "Two German officers. Well, what's happening as a result? How does this affect our friends' chances of getting across the border into France?"
"To be honest, I don't know yet. I'm sure that the officials will be tightening the borders due to German pressure, but considering they'll be crossing over a French border the security may not be as tight. Still, their papers worked to get them into this country, so I'm optimistic," Ernst said.
"Yes, that is a good sign," Georg agreed.
The two men stared at each other across Georg's desk. There was nothing left for Georg to say, and though it was silent, he was clearly discouraging any more conversation. The camaraderie and partnership that had been so strong during their last meeting was gone.
"Well, you should have everything you need," Ernst said, standing up. "If anything else comes up, have your wife contact me. I'm sorry I won't be able to see you at the concert. It's coming together very well."
"Yes, I'm sorry to miss it as well," Georg agreed, standing up. "Thank you again for the violins. Our daughter is already making use of one."
"I'm glad to hear it. That's why I sent them."
"Johanna will show you out," Georg dismissed him.
"I'll see you at another time then, Captain."
"Yes, I'm sure you will," Georg agreed while knowing that he would never see this man again.
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As Ernst left, Georg sat down at his desk and leaned back in his chair. So the bodies had been found. He had been expecting that but he wasn't sure whether he was encouraged or disappointed that Ernst had no other knowledge. Clearly not much was known, but whether that was because the Germans had control of the situation or because there was still a lot of confusion around it he didn't know. As long as the Swiss/French borders remained open, things could still work out.
There was a soft knock at the door. Georg could immediately tell it was Maria but he wasn't annoyed with her for knocking as he had once been. This day had been too stressful for annoyance with each other.
"Come in," he invited as he stood up to greet her.
Sure enough, Maria walked in. Georg was relieved to see that her eyes had a bit more of a spark to them again. Somehow, she was starting to make peace with the situation.
"I heard Herr Schmidt leave," she began "Did he say anything?"
She didn't need to clarify her question. There was only one thing she could be asking about.
"The bodies have been found, he didn't know anything else," Georg answered.
Maria could feel her stomach churning once again at the word 'bodies.' Two men had become bodies. There was nothing else to say about it. She tried to keep the disgust she felt from showing on her face.
"Georg, darling," she stepped closer to him and caught both of his hands in hers.
He felt himself melt a little at her touch and at the endearment. Maybe she did understand. Maybe she would even be able to forget about it someday.
Her next words raised his defenses, making the hair on the back of his neck prickle.
"Darling, come to church with me. Today. Now. Let's go to confession. You can confess – be forgiven – and get this stain off your soul. I need to go to confession as well. Let's go together and put this behind us." Her eyes were pleading with him as much as her voice.
At any other time, under any other circumstance, he would have melted before her hopeful, soulful love for him and belief. But at this moment, it was suddenly obvious she didn't understand the position he was in.
He took his hands away and stepped back. "Absolutely not." He tried to soften his voice but failed under the force of his agitation.
Maria watched as her beloved husband turned back into the stern, guarded, authoritative and biting sea Captain that she had first met. She felt as though she had been punched in the gut. Not only was he rejecting the only possible window of light she saw, but he was turning back into a stranger.
"And I absolutely forbid you to go to confession as well," he continued. He could see what he was doing to her but couldn't stop himself.
She stopped floundering in that sea of heartache and confusion and drew herself up to her full height. "You forbid me? I thought we had already established that I am neither your pet nor your child for you to command. I am your wife, and if I wish to cleanse my soul at church there is nothing you can say about it."
"Yes you are my wife," Georg practically hissed, his dark blue eyes burning with anger. "That means that I am responsible for you as I am responsible for this entire family. I am responsible for your safety and for the safety of our entire family. So under no circumstances will you mention this, hint about it, allude to it or in any way reference it, even in confession."
Maria looked at him, dumbfounded. "But there's no reason to be concerned about confessing to a priest!" she protested. "He could never reveal what you had told him. Never! Confession is completely safe."
Georg shook his head, "It's a risk I can't take. Our safety comes first, at all costs."
Maria felt her own anger rising. Had he even heard a word she had said? And how dare he tell her what she could or could not do within the protection of a church? She couldn't have stopped her next words even if she wanted to:
"If you were so concerned with our safety then maybe you shouldn't have killed two German officers."
With those words she effectively put a barrier up between them.
"I've already explained that I had no other choice," Georg said once again, and turned away. "Clearly there is no point in discussing this further."
"Clearly," Maria agreed, "especially if you consider your soul or relationship with the Lord to be of so little value."
Georg had never thought he could be as angry with Maria as he was at this moment. He turned back towards her, grabbing her arm and pulling her close so that he could keep his voice low.
"What I value is something more real at the moment," he said, "our lives. Our safety. I value getting out of Switzerland before it becomes another annexation of Germany. I value our survival. And you will do the same."
Maria said nothing but feel the heat from how close he was. She was finding it difficult to breathe and wasn't sure if it was from anger, disgust or something else.
"When we are safe – and I will be the judge of that – you may confess anything you wish. Until then you will not breathe a word of this to anyone. Under any circumstances."
Maria could feel her last window of hope closing with his words. She was married to a man, her family was headed by a man, who had committed a mortal sin and obviously didn't care about confessing it. Did he even care about God or had that all been a show for her benefit?
She turned away in disgust and walked to the door. Before she opened it she turned back.
"Oh, Captain, you seem to be missing your whistle." And with that she walked out the door. Let him make of that what he would.
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Georg walked to the window, hurt to the core. She had once said she fell in love with him the first time he had blown the whistle. Was she saying that he had become a tyrant? Was she saying that she didn't love him anymore? All he was trying to do was take care of his family. Yes, he had done something horrible the night before but he still didn't see how he could have done anything else. And the thought of her telling anyone – anyone! – even someone bound by the laws of the church was unthinkable.
Still, their journey had just become infinitely more difficult. Without Maria's full partnership it would be impossible.
To be continued …
(1) My apologies for a mistake in the last chapter – I got the wrong concerto. Gustav is meant to be playing the violin solo from the Allegro moderato movement from Sibelius' Concerto for Violin and Orchestra in D minor. Highly recommended to anyone who has not heard it!