Thanks to Ramona and Meave for all kind words of encouragement. Chapter 4 of "The Labyrinth" is now up. Please read and leave your comments. I'd love to know what you are thinking. Thank you for following my fic.

I hear Sammy's voice talking to his mother in the room.

- Helen is lying in bed? But she wasn't going out with you in the castle?

- Yes, she was with us, son, but she fell on her knees in the garden and ...

- She fell on her knees? I don't understand, how she fell on her knees? She's hurt?

- She made some scratches and may have turned purple from the blow, she didn't explain how it happened, it seems she was to explore the labyrinth and half-stepped on one of the stones.

- We don't follow her, son. She was alone ... – Now, I heard his father intruding in the conversation.

- As she was taking too long to come back, Leo decided to go after her and found her sitting on a bench, appearing to be a little aerial, you know ... Like being lost.

- Okay ... I'll see her, excuse me.

When I heard Sammy saying that he wanted to see me, immediately blacked out the lamp and pulled the blanket over, trying to hide my face a bit, which at this point should be very red from crying. Actually, I was afraid that Sam could read in my eyes what was going on with me. He approached the bed and gentle as ever, sat down beside me and ran his fingers through my hair.

- Hey, girl! You were looking at the sky and lost ground?

I pretended to be half asleep and I said, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

- I got distracted. I ended up tripping and falling.

- Are you hurt?

- Just a little bit. A few scratches here and there, a purple and all is well!

- Do you want go out to eat? Peter, our concertmaster recommended a bistro on the banks of the Danube, not far from here, shall we?

- Oh, Sammy, you'll get very upset if I prefer to be quiet here today? I'm tired, I walked all day and after that I fall I...

- Oh, sure, I'm staying upset because I hate the idea of not being with you. But I understand ... I hope you'll forgive me, but I'm hungry and very curious to know this restaurant. I'm meeting Peter, Johanna, and a few more people in the orchestra at eight. Can I get you something to eat?

- No, you don't need it. I'll ask the reception to bring something for me to eat in the room. Your parents go with you?

- No. They'll dine in the hotel restaurant. They are also tired. Love, I take a shower, don't want to be late.

Sammy kissed my forehead and went to the bathroom. I was glad he didn't try to turn on the light, I didn't that he saw in my eyes as I was really feeling at all. I congratulated myself for not letting him see any problem, all I want is to not take his tranquility. I know how much he is anxious to the eve of a concert and I don't want to concerned him, in any way. After he left, and knowing that I wouldn't be bothered by my in-laws, I decided to get out of bed and I'll take a shower. I turn on the bathtub faucet and try not to let my thoughts wander in that labyrinth, but I know it is virtually impossible. Those cold blue eyes, again fixed on me, gave me the assurance that he isn't dead, nor trapped. Or am I going crazy yet and not realized it. Am I so upset just for coming to Vienna?

But what about the trial? Herr Kommandant was judged, I know ... At least I thought it, because I received that phone call from Krakow's Court. I remember when I met with the Pfefferberg's on the Orchestra's tour in Los Angeles in 1950 and Poldek had told me about the trial.

- Don't worry. He was hanged, Helen. The damn man was hanged making the Nazi salute. He got what he deserved!

- I still dream about him, Poldek. – I remember saying that to my friend. To which he replied, in the most serious way that he could:

- Me too.

So if he died, why on Earth I saw him today? If it was just in my head, an apparition, an illusion, I probably seen him in the way I remember it: as an SS uniform from head to toe, crew cut and mostly younger. The man I saw today was older than I remember, seemed to be over 40. And even if he died in 1946, he was only 37 years old. He was 15 years older than me and the man I saw this afternoon, without any doubt, was still older than me. So was it really him? I may well be too impressed to be here, anyway, because I remember well the pride he felt for being from Vienna, the "city of the waltz, good operas, art and beauty," as he liked to brag about.

I don't think someone is joking, because I told it so little for the people who are part of my life today; even Anna not knows right what I went trough. After our reunion, she and I almost don't speak of the horrors we saw and lived as much as I think it better not to speak, not to move in the past, it was still hard for both of us to know that our parents and so many others weren't lucky and weren't unable to get here. I move away the ghost I saw today, because I will not think I'm crazy, no, I just don't want to think that I'm not healthy and really saw what I thought I saw...

I think about picking up the phone to ask for an international call to Anna, but quit. I get in the tub and let the feeling of warm water to take care of my body and warm my soul. I'll always find that taking a nice hot bath is a great privilege, because in Plaszow baths were always cold and fast.

I remember how much I hated the lack of privacy of the field. The collective baths, the collective and absolutely embarrasing medical examinations, in which we were all naked circling the courtyard, with the SS looking us like animals or worse than that. I remember well the disgusted face of the SS doctor who examined me in my first week in the field.

- This is strong, healthy, will keep pace at the field. See - opened my mouth in an extremely rude, invasive form:

- Has all teeth, a rare thing!

In those early days as a prisoner, worked for a time in the camp kitchen. Not cooking, but I helped women to wash, cut and chop the vegetables available and also in organizing things. Have ended up in the kitchen was a blessing because I ate better than most people, and eat better in a concentration camp meant more chances of survival. I well remember the day when an SS officer came into the kitchen, screaming, saying to form a queue and go quickly to the courtyard. And more and more I became increasingly frightened by the numerous rows. Where we were going this time?

It was just what was needed, they will kill the cooks now? - I heard one of the women from the kitchen to think quietly. I only had time to grab a blanket to try to protect me from the cold. Winter in Plaszow was freezing and I couldn't risk getting sick. In those days meant sick die.

I went with all the other women who ran the camp kitchen, being pulled by one, run like crazy until near the villa which was built in record time for the new camp commander. It was then that the girl next to me told me that the commander was in need of a maid, so we had been convened. I was encouraged, after all, should be less strenuous than the endless service of the camp kitchen.

- Here they are, sir! - I heard the officer tell the other, that the uniform had a higher rank.

- One of you is a very lucky girl. - The officer of higher rank began to speak, coming towards me, smoking. - There is a place available away from all that exhausting work in my new villa. - He said, stopping in front of me and quickly back again to the top of the queue.

- Anyone who has worked as a maid?

All there quickly raised their hands, so that he was sure they were qualified for the job. Since I had no experience as a domestic (what little I did in camp kitchen was not enough to qualify me for the job), I decided not lie, after all, the SS seemed to sniff when we were lying. I think I was the only one who didn't raise the arm.

- Ja, - he said. - Although I don't want somebody's other maid. It's hard to take her bad habits. - And came back towards me, I felt I had spiked his eyes on me, but I kept my head down, not daring to look at him. With one hand holding a handkerchief, he made a subtle gesture that I took a step forward. I gave and he began to speak, so kind, taking a small step backwards:

- Don't want you to catch my cold! - Smiled at me.

- What is your name?

- Helen Hirsch! - I said, but I think my voice is barely out.

- What?

- Helen Hirsch. - When I spoke again, he coughed, which once again stifled my voice.

- How? I didn't hear!

- Helen Hirsch! – I tried to speak a little louder. When he heard my name, he pulled the blanket that covered my hands and watched. I don't know what he wanted to do with this gesture, but noted how much my hands were shivering. I finally stared him and tried to smile; to be perfectly honest, I didn't know what to do at that moment, then I forced myself in seem someone with nice appearance, or at least healthy. It had been so long since I looked at myself in a mirror, so long that I had no idea how my appearance was. And I forced myself in seem like if I was happy (something impossible under the circumstances), or, at least able to work. He looked at me intently, then blew smoke cigarette, looked at me again and said to the officer who had brought us: - Ja! – I'd been chosen by him.

- Get to work! - Shouted the officer. - And we went running away, but one of the officers grabbed me tightly by the arm. - You don't! Stay here!

I was waiting for the orders to go to the villa, and it had the first glimpse of what awaited me. Herr Kommandant heard a Jewish, I still remember her name, Diana Reiter, who complained that the foundations of one of the sheds were not properly done and could fall at any time. Herr Kommandant heard the complaint guard and politely talked with the girl, who was an engineer (graduated from University of Milan), until then, totally out of nowhere, sent to kill her. After the girl died, Herr Kommandant told officers overthrow everything and do as she was told. They passed by me in a quiet way and I stood there, stunned, watching the blood gush from her head. I think there I realized that working in the villa could be much more than exhausting. It could mean my death sentence.

I could barely imagine, but since that night, my first in the villa, my hell began. After a quiet day at work, where I had done the only dish that could cook up then: roasted meat - the dish that Herr Kommandant even praised, I went to my new quarters in the basement, next to the winery. I was lying when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Quickly got up in time to wear my coat, not wanting to be seen by anyone using just ridiculous semitransparent cloth that served me as a night pajamas. When I saw that it was Herr Kommandant, in person, I thought maybe he wanted me to prepare some tea or something. He looked at me up and down and asked:

- Where are the bones from dinner? - Without understanding, I tried to argue that I'd thrown away. It was there that he became enraged, so unexpectedly and pulled me by the hair, with force enough to throw me to the floor.

- You stupid bitch! Who sent you throw away the bones from dinner? Huh? Were for my dogs! If you don't already know, I have two dogs, Rolf and Ralf, who would be delighted to bite your shin bone in place that one you Miss deliberately threw away! – His Ironic tone in which he said that filled of shoves my face and body and left me perplexed.

It was then that I made my second stupid mistake (the first was to have thrown out the bones from dinner):

- Why are you hitting me? - Never ask that again, but that was my first day and I was trying to understand, and perhaps prevent it being repeated. And with an extra dose of sarcasm, he replied:

- The reason I beat you now is because you asked why I'm beating you! - I took a few more slaps, until he felt satisfied and walk out basement, stomping. It took me awhile to get up there and get back to bed, confused, bewildered and hurt. That night was one of many that I could not sleep, despite all the tiredness.

With these painful memories in mind, I try to compose myself. Walk out of the tub, wipe me, put my sweater and go to dining room. I sit at the table, watch the food, but I lack the appetite. After the war, I swore to myself that no matter my mood, I always strive to eat, because today I am fully aware that eating can be a very great luxury. I take a bite, and two, when I think I'm doing well, the memory of that man standing in the labyrinth, watching me intently baffles me again. I feel embarrassed, as if I had been naked in front of him or something. I'm increasingly sure that what I saw was real and not a figment of my imagination. His features were too real to be a ghost. Play again in food, but I have no more disposition to nothing. Like a wolf on the prey, he sniffed my fear.

I walk to the balcony and breathe deeply the fresh air of Vienna. Suddenly, a shiver runs down my spine. - Is he following me? Will come following me from London, or even Prague? Or worse, does he know where I live? What does he know of me I don't know? What do I need to do to get this monster back to hell where it came from and don't look for me anymore? It is true that he didn't tell me, just call me by the nickname he gave me, it made sure to give me at the same time confuse me more. My head starts to throb and I go back to the room, take some medicine and try to sleep, if possible, try not to dream.

* Meanwhile, in the Donau Bistro...

- Herr Horowitz? - Says the waiter, as he approached Samuel with a bottle of wine.

- I am, do you? - The waiter presents a wine to the conductor.

- Compliments of the gentleman from the table 8. It's a Heidi Schröck Ried Vogelsang, an austrian white wine, 1943's harvest. Will you allow me to serve you?

- Wow! Of course! Thank you! Who made this kindness?

- The gentleman from table 8, said to be an admirer of you!

Samuel Horowitz looks toward the table 8, where a man with fair hair and intense blue eyes, looking to be close to 50, are staring at him. Once Horowitz looks at him, the gentleman raises his glass.

- Please ask the gentleman to join us. If he wants to, of course!

- Yes, sir. - The waiter goes to the man, who, hearing the request, gets up and walks toward to Samuel's table.

- I have the honor to greet hands so talented? - Samuel heard the gentleman speak in an English with a pronounced German accent.

- Of course. - Samuel reaches out. - I greatly appreciate the kindness. I'm Samuel Horowitz, conductor of the New York Symphony Orchestra.

- I know! - Replied the gentleman, returned the compliment. - Anton Klaus Prauchner, his admirer ...