Chapter Forty
Three Musketeers, A Dog, And A Wheelbarrow Part II
While Max continued to stare pensively into the darkness, now, as if somehow sensing his distress, little Fritz reached up and licked his face. Not that his young master even seemed to notice, for Max was reflecting ruefully on what had now come to pass. But a short while ago, he had so wanted adventure and now he had it, and in abundance too. There was an old English saying which down the years he remembered Mama had used to him on several occasions. In German it was rendered as:
"Bedenke was Du Dir wüschst, es könnte Dir gewährt werden"
And in the present circumstances, it seemed particularly apt.
"Be careful what you wish for"
In the meantime, following the departure of the train, Danny and Robert had drawn a little way off from Max and he stood patiently and waited while an obviously heated discussion ensued between his two cousins. Clearly they were trying to decide what they should do next. A moment later and the two boys turned and walked over to where Max was standing.
If both Danny and Robert were undoubtedly their own fathers' sons, then, not for nothing was young Max a von Schönborn and as such was very aware not only of his ancestral heritage but also of his responsibilities; no more so than now. After all, if it hadn't been for Fritz escaping, none of this would have happened and the young Austrian boy felt that in some small measure he should apologise for the present predicament in which they all now found themselves. So, despite the pain in his knee - it was no worse but no better – Max smartly clicked his heels together and bowed gravely from the waist.
"Entschuldigen Sie bitte," he said gravely and then promptly straightened up.
Danny and Robert looked questioningly at each other. Realising they had not understood him, despite having Fritz held fast in his arms, Max contrived to jab a finger in the direction taken by the express.
"I think he's trying to say he's sorry," said Robert.
"Why, what on earth for?" asked Danny incredulously. "It was me that got off the train first. Besides, what else could we do? Either of us? Anyway, my Da would never forgive me if I hadn't tried to help. After all, with that knee of his, Max could hardly go chasing after Fritz on his own, now could he?"
"No, I suppose not". Robert nodded his head slowly in agreement. There was truth in what Danny said but all the same what on earth were they to do now?
That smart clicking together of his heels had done Max's injured leg no good whatsoever. The pain from his knee was beginning to worsen and, if Max understood anything about his condition, he knew he must sit down and rest his leg if he was to try and avoid making their situation a whole lot worse. Looking about him, he saw that there was a station bench close by. Max turned, shuffled slowly over to it, eased himself and Fritz down gently and stretched out his leg along the length of the seat and looked sorrowfully down at the ground.
A moment or so later, the two older boys had made their way over to where Max was now sitting. At their approach, he looked up. Seeing the confusion and fear now registered in his face, Danny squatted down beside him and placed a hand gently on Max's good knee while Robert sat down on the bench beside Max and placed his arm comfortingly around the younger boy's shoulders.
"It's not your fault, for sure," Danny said. He looked up and smiled warmly at young Max.
Robert pointed to Max's knee. "Does it hurt you so very much?" he asked softly.
Although the English words were unfamiliar to Max, their meaning was very clear. He grimaced and in turn nodded his head at both of his cousins. Feeling around in his pockets, Robert suddenly came across half a bar of chocolate, all that remained of what had been bought for him by Uncle Tom at Victoria station yesterday morning, although that now seemed a lifetime ago. Breaking it into pieces, placing them in his handkerchief, Robert smiled gently and offered them in turn, first to Max and then to Danny who by now had joined the other two boys seated on the bench. Each took a couple of squares. For the moment, the three of them sat contentedly together in silence while they munched their chocolate and in an effort to make it last, did so slowly.
"Das ist gut!" Max grinned broadly. Despite all that had happened, he had the strangest feeling that all would yet be well.
Upon both hearing his master's voice and scenting the chocolate, Fritz nuzzled his chin affectionately, whereupon Robert placed the last piece of chocolate in the palm of his hand and tentatively held out it to the little dog. Fritz needed no prompting and devoured the proffered treat in one bite, then barked noisily, seemingly assenting his satisfaction. The three boys laughed, their merriment serving as an all too brief distraction from their present situation.
Max winced. He reached forward slowly and gently massaged his injured knee. For the moment the pain seemed to be lessening. Perhaps if he rested his leg for a while longer then all would indeed turn out right in the end.
"What on earth are we going to do now?" asked Robert, staring glumly into space.
But answer came there none.
Dawn was now breaking as the Rome Express continued on its way, climbing ever higher through the snow capped mountains and towards the long inky blackness of the Mont Cenis tunnel which lay beyond Modane and the Italian border.
On board the speeding train, in her sleeping compartment, Edith stirred and turned fretfully even in her comfortable bed. These days, she never slept well, not even when all three of them were safely together at Rosenberg; not even if Friedrich was there in bed beside her to calm her fears.
And these days her fears were manifold.
Not for herself of course; principally they were reserved for darling Max but also, given the gathering political storm now threatening to engulf Austria, for Friedrich too, as well as for friends of theirs like the Meyers, as to what might come to pass. There were many in Austria who Edith knew would welcome even closer ties with a resurgent Germany and, from some of her mother's recent letters, Edith was well aware that there were many of a similar disposition amongst the ranks of the British aristocracy who professed admiration for Herr Hitler and the National Socialists. Why, there was even talk of the formation of a society to promote Anglo-German fellowship.
Of course, her late father had always stayed aloof from politics and contented himself running the estate, Matthew likewise; although he went up to London to attend the House of Lords far more often than Papa had ever done and with his involvement with the League of Nations in Geneva took a much greater interest in what was happening both in Europe and elsewhere.
But now, even in her fractured sleep, her mind a maelstrom of disconnected, disjointed thoughts, Edith's thoughts turned once again to Max. If as she very much feared she had inherited haemophilia from their mother, Edith believed that from what she had told Sybil and with her medical knowledge, her younger sister had realised the implications for her own children.
But, had Mary?
Somehow, Edith very much doubted it. However, in this regard, she was to be proved wrong: in reality, Mary had understood the implications of Max's condition far more than her younger sister presently imagined to be the case. To be scrupulously fair, Edith could understand Mary's seemingly dismissive attitude to the matter, recalling that when she and Friedrich had first learned that Max had haemophilia, she herself had tried to shut out the harshness of reality. To convince herself that the medical profession, the professors, the specialists and the doctors in Austria and elsewhere were all wrong, that her little boy was perfect and that there was nothing inherently wrong with Max. After all, when born, he was such a large, bouncing, happy baby who positively glowed with health. But then, as he started to crawl and then to toddle, each time he fell, when dark bruises then appeared on his chubby little arms and legs, there could no longer be any more denying or doubting the awful nature of what it was that was wrong with him. Still, Max was recovering well from his latest bleed and despite pleading to share a sleeping compartment with his new-found cousins, he was here, safe and sound beside her, asleep in the other bed.
The first fingers of sunlight peeping through the chink between the curtains of their compartment awakened her. That... and the complete and utter silence from the other side of the room. In an instant, Edith was sitting up, fully awake, taking in Max's empty bed, his pyjamas lying where he had dropped them, and also the absence of Fritz.
"And, are you really happy about the new arrival?" asked Tom. He had insisted that they share the lower of the two berths and with some difficulty Sybil turned in his arms to face him.
"Of course I am. Only..."
"Only what, my darling?" He regarded her thoughtfully with his dark blue eyes.
"Well... with all this business of young Max and what with Bobby's heavy nosebleeds..."
"Darlin'" Tom cupped Sybil's face in his hands. "That's all they are, for sure. Nosebleeds. You suffered from them yourself once remember?"
"Yes, but not as bad as he does".
"Darlin'. Trust me, none of our children, none of Matthew and Mary's either, suffer from... What was it called again?"
"Haemophilia".
"But how can you be so sure?"
Tom bit his lower lip.
"I can't, of course". His heartfelt honesty now earned him the softest of kisses.
"Thank you for that". Sybil smiled gently.
"And, after all, we would have had some other indication by now, surely?" offered Tom practically.
"I suppose so..."
"Of course we would," he said emphatically. "Besides, from what Edith told us, while awful, this disease is capricious. Not all the daughters in a family inherit the problem, whatever it is that causes it".
Tom's common sense approach to the matter under discussion now earned him another kiss. Sybil propped herself up on one elbow, her eyes searching his face. After some thirteen years of marriage, she loved him more than ever. They trusted each other implicitly; had no secrets and because of this Sybil now plucked up courage to ask Tom something else that was troubling her.
"May I ask you something?"
"Of course. Anything".
"What about you? Are you happy about becoming a father again?"
"Of course I am. Only..." Tom paused.
"Only what?"
"I'm too old to be a Da again," he said mournfully.
"Evidently not! Any way you've only yourself to blame!" Sybil laughed happily.
She slipped her hands beneath his vest, began running her fingers through the soft mat of hairs upon his chest; felt him stiffen against her, saw Tom grin lazily.
"And if ever you do start flagging in that regard, Mr. Branson, it will be time for me to call in the under..."
However, before Sybil could finish what she was saying, there came a hurried knocking at their door. With great reluctance, Tom clambered out of bed, padded across the room and opened the door, to find Edith, evidently distressed, standing before him in the corridor.
"Edith! Why, what on earth's the matter?"
"It's Max... he's disappeared," she said, nervously tying and untying the sash of her kimono.
"Disappeared? Max? He can't have!" Understandably, Tom sounded utterly incredulous at what he was now hearing.
"His bed's empty and his clothes have gone. And not only that; Fritz has disappeared too!"
"He's probably gone along to see the boys and taken Fritz with him for sure". Tom smiled. "You know how well they were all getting along earlier today, on the train from Calais, how disappointed Max was about not being able to share their quarters tonight".
By now Sybil had appeared in the open doorway behind Tom.
"Edith darling, I'm sure what Tom says is the truth of it. Tom, go along the corridor to Danny and Robert's compartment. I expect they're all in there now, having a midnight feast". She glanced backwards over her shoulder towards the window of their own compartment where through the curtains it was already beginning to grow lighter. "Or, at this hour, some kind of early morning pow-wow".
Edith smiled wanly.
"I pray that you're right, the both of you. I just have this awful, awful feeling... that something's not right. That something's happened to him. I mean, Max has never done anything like this before!"
"He's never met his cousins before either!" Tom grinned. "And you know the kind of mischief Danny and Rob get up to! Thick as thieves the pair of them. And it's all new to young Max. I'm sure he's in there with them now for sure. Come along. Let's go find him and young Fritz, set your mind at rest and then we can all get back to bed again".
With the exception of Edith, who had gone to satisfy herself that the two Meyer children were still asleep in their beds, the rest of the adult Bransons and the Crawleys were all now gathered together in the compartment Matthew and Mary were using as a both a dressing and a sitting room. The rising tension and frayed nerves were all too palpable while from outside through the window there came a steady roar as the express passed through the bore of yet another tunnel.
"But they must be on the train!" exclaimed Mary.
"Evidently not. Pierre assures me that..." began Matthew.
"What does he know..."
"Mary, he's the Chef de Bord," explained Matthew with infinite patience. "Following his instructions, the stewards have undertaken a meticulously thorough search of the train... of the dining car, the baggage cars, the unoccupied compartments..."
"Well, obviously not thorough enough!"
"If by that you mean have they disturbed the occupants of the other sleeping compartments? Then no, of course, they haven't. But the boys are hardly likely to be found in any of those now, are they? In any case, I understand that the stewards are beginning the process all over again, although I doubt very much that the outcome will be anything other than what it is now. The boys aren't on the train".
"That's absolutely ridiculous! They must be! They can't have just got off! It's not possible"
"Yes, it is. Pierre informed me that, after leaving Aix-les-Bains, the train stopped twice more: at Chambery and then again at St. Jean de Maurienne". Matthew enunciated the last two names carefully. "So, if the boys got off the train, then they must have done so at one or other of these two places. Why remains a mystery. At least for the present. But we have to face the possibility that they may well have done so".
"But why on earth would they do such a thing? It doesn't make any sense. And if they have... Dear God!" Giving free rein to both her worry and her mounting anger Mary now rounded on Sybil. "This is Daniel's fault. All of it!"
"How dare you! Don't you dare start blaming Danny for this! Any of it! And please to remember, my son's missing too!" blazed Sybil. With hot tears welling in her eyes, the two sisters confronted each other angrily across the small space that now separated them.
Sybil was the first to turn away. While Mary remained standing where she was, motionless, as if carved from ice, imperious, her eyes glittering, her sister slumped down in an armchair. Tom was beside Sybil in an instant, kneeling beside her, his arms about her.
"Darlin', trust me. He'll be found. Safe and sound. They all will, for sure".
Matthew raised his eyes towards the ceiling, grimaced down at Tom and then shook his head in disbelief.
"Give me the Somme any day," he said quietly. Tom smiled ruefully. Then, ever the peacemaker, Matthew became practical.
"Let's not start blaming anyone for this. And let's be thankful too that both Simon and Bobby are fast asleep in their beds. Now..." He paused. "I assume that all any of us, want, are for the boys to be found; safe and sound". Matthew looked slowly round at each of them in turn. "Isn't that the sum of it?" he asked softly. There was a series of assenting nods. "Good. Now, let's all await the outcome of the second search".
Matthew's quiet assessment of the present situation seemed to lower the temperature somewhat but only for the moment as it was now that Edith slipped back into the compartment. She nodded her head in affirmation at her English brother-in-law.
"They're where they should be too, poor little mites and still sleeping soundly in their beds. Thank God".
"It's not much to thank Him for, is it? And speaking of unoccupied compartments, Edith, what's this I hear about you helping two..."
"Mary, please! Not now!" Matthew's tone was curt almost peremptory. In fact, it was the very first time ever that any of them here present could recall hearing Matthew raising his voice to his wife in public. And so unexpected was Matthew's almost angry outburst that Mary herself fell silent; sat down heavily in the nearest available chair and looked mutely at the floor.
"Well, if they're not on the train, then where on earth are they, Matthew?" This from Edith who was almost beside herself with worry over young Max. However, it was Tom who answered her.
"I think we can all safely assume that wherever Danny is, then Robert will be there too for sure. As I said earlier, they're as thick as thieves the pair of them and what's more, they both look out for each other. Remember when Danny was shot, how Robert helped him to that cottage, much as Danny did when his grandfather collapsed?"
Which, was all true enough.
Both Matthew and Mary had been very proud of the way Robert had behaved when Danny had been accidentally shot and injured back in the summer of 1929. And none of them would ever forget how the previous year, Danny had run like the wind to the nearest farm for help when his beloved grandfather had collapsed over at High Beck Falls.
"But what about darling Max?"
Tom stood up and slipped his arm comfortingly about Edith's shoulders.
"As I said, I'm certain that where ever those two scamps are, Max will be with them. And his little dog too. Danny and Robert, they'll look out for him, have no fear of that for sure. And, it stands to reason that all three of them have to be some where on this train. Perhaps the stewards have missed somewhere".
"You really mean that?" Edith's voice trembled; her eyes glistened.
"Have I ever given you any reason to doubt to me?" Tom smiled.
"No, never. Of course not. Darling Tom, I trust you implicitly ..." she began, her words cut short by a peremptory knock at the door.
"Yes?" This from Matthew. The door swung back and, resplendent in his immaculate uniform, the splendidly moustached Chef de Bord now strode briskly into the compartment. Glancing round, he nodded his head curtly in turn to all here present and then half bowed respectfully towards the earl of Grantham.
"Monsieur, le comte, je suis désolé mais les jeunes garçons ne sont pas dans ce train".
Beside him, Tom heard Edith's sudden, rapid intake of breath.
"My God... Then where on earth are they?"