Текст книги "Power of the Sword"

Автор книги: Wilbur Smith

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Текущая страница: 38 (всего у книги 51 страниц)

They lunched in an inn full of people and music and laughter, on a haunch of wild boar with roast potatoes and apples and drank a Moselle with the taste of the grape and sunshine in its pale greenish depths.

Everybody is so happy and prosperous-looking, Shasa remarked as he glanced around the crowded room.

The only country in the world with no unemployment and no poor, Centaine agreed, but Blaine tasted his wine and said nothing.

That afternoon they entered the northern plain on the approach to Berlin, and Shasa, who was leading, swung the Daimler off onto the verge so suddenly that David grabbed for the dashboard and the girls in the back squeaked with alarm.

Shasa jumped out, leaving the engine still running, shouting 'David! David! just look at them, aren't they the most beautiful things you have ever seen. The others piled out beside him and stared up at the sky, while Blaine pulled the Bentley in behind the Daimler and he and Centaine climbed out to join them, shading their eyes against the slanting sun.

There was an airfield adjoining the highway. The hangar buildings were painted silver and the windsock waved its long white arm in the small breeze. A stick of three fighter aircraft turned out of the sun, coming around in formation to line up for the strip. They were sleek as sharks, their bellies and lower wings painted sky blue, their upper surfaces speckled with camouflage and the boss of their propellers bright yellow.

What are they? Blaine called across to the two young pilots, and they answered as one. 109S., Messerschmitts. The machine-gun snouts bristled from the leading edges of the wings, and the eyes of the cannon peered malevolently from the centre of the spinning propeller bosses.

What I'd give to fly one of those! An arm And a leg And my hope of salvation! The three fighters changed formation into line astern and descended towards the airfield.

They say that they can do 350 mph, straight and level– Oh sweet! Oh sweet! Look at them fly! The girls were infected by their excitement, and they clapped and laughed, as the war machines passed low over their heads and touched down on the airstrip only a few hundred yards beyond.

It would be worth going to war, just to get a shot at flying something like that, Shasa exulted, and Blaine turned back to the Bentley to hide his sudden anger at the remark.

Centaine slid into the seat beside him and they drove in silence for five minutes before she said: He's so young and foolish sometimes – I'm sorry, Blaine, I know how he upset you. He sighed. We were the same. We called it "a great game" and thought it was going to be the glory of a lifetime that would make us men and heroes. Nobody told us about the ripped guts and the terror and how dead men smell on the fifth day in the sun. It won't happen again, Centaine said, fiercely.

Please don't let it happen again! In her mind's eye she saw once again the burning aircraft, with the body of the man she loved, blackening and twisting and crisping; then the face was no longer Michael's but that of his only son, and Shasa's beautiful face burst open like a sausage held too close to the flames and the sweet young life juices burst from it.

.Please stop the car, Blaine, she whispered. I think I am going to be ill. With hard driving they could have reached Berlin that night, but in one of the smaller towns that they were passing through the streets were decorated for some sort of celebration, and Centaine asked and was told that it was the festival of the local patron saint.

Oh Blaine, let's stay over, she cried, and they joined in the festival.

That afternoon there was a procession. An effigy of the saint was paraded through the narrow cobbled streets, and a band followed it, with angelic little blond girls in national dress, and small boys in uniform.

Those are the Hitler Youth, Blaine explained. Something like old Baden-Powells Boy Scouts, but with a much stronger emphasis on German national aspirations and patriotism. After the parade there was torchlit dancing in the town square, and barrows serving foaming tankards of beer or glasses of Sekt, the German equivalent of champagne, and serving-girls with lace aprons and cheeks like ripe apples carrying over owing platters of rich food, pigs trotters and veal, smoked mackerel and cheeses.

They found a table at the corner of the square, and the revellers at the neighbouring tables called greetings and merry banter to them; and they drank beer and danced and beat time to the oom-pa-pa band with their beer mugs.

Then quite abruptly the atmosphere changed. The laughter around them became brittle and forced, and there was a wariness in the faces and eyes of revellers at the adjacent tables; the band began to play too loudly and the dancers became feverish in their exertions.

Four men had entered the square. They wore brown uniforms with cross-straps over the chest and the ubiquitous swastika arm-bands. Their brown cloth caps with rounded peaks were pulled low and their leather chin straps were down. Each of them carried a small wooden collection box with a slot in the lid and they spread out and went to each of the tables.

Everybody made a donation, but as they pushed their coins into the slot of the box, they avoided looking at the brown-uniformed collectors.

Their laughter was forced and nervous, and they looked into their tankards or at their own hands until the collectors had passed on to the next table, when they exchanged relieved glances.

Who are these people? Centaine asked innocently, making no attempt to hide her interest.

They are the SA, Blaine replied. Storm troopers, the bully boys of the National Socialist Party. Look at that one. The trooper he had chosen had the bland heavy face of a peasant, dull and brutal. Is it not remarkable that there are always people to do this type of work, the need finds the man. Let us pray that his is not the face of the new Germany. The storm trooper had noticed their unconcealed interest and he came directly to their table with that menacing deliberate swagger.

Papers! he said.

He wants our papers, Tara translated, and Blaine handed over his passport.

Ah! Foreign tourists. The storm trooper's manner changed. He smiled ingratiatingly and handed back Blaine's passport with a few pleasant words.

He says, welcome to the paradise of National Socialist Germany, Tara translated, and Blaine nodded.

He says, you will see how the German people are now happy and proud, and something else that I didn't catch. Tell him we hope that they will always be happy and proud. The trooper beamed and clicked the heels of his jackboots as he sprang to attention.

Heil Hitler! He gave the Nazi salute, and Mathilda Janine dissolved into helpless giggles.

I can't help it, she gasped as Blaine gave her a sharp look and a shake of the head. It just slays me when they do that., The storm troopers left the square, and they could feel the tension ease; the band slackened its frenetic beat and the dancers slowed down. People looked directly at one another and smiled naturally.

That night Centaine pulled the fat goose-down duvet up around her ears and snuggled into the curve of Blaine's arm.

Have you noticed, she asked, how the people here seemed caught between feverish laughter and nervous tears? Blaine was silent for a while and then he grunted, There is a smell in the air that troubles me, it seems to me that it is the stench of some deadly plague, and he shuddered slightly and drew her closer to him.

With the Daimler leading, they streamed down the wide white autobahn into the suburbs of the German capital.

So much water, so many canals and so many trees. The city's built on a series of canals, Tara explained.

Rivers trapped between the old terminal moraines that the east to west, How is it you always know everything? Shasa interrupted her, a touch of real exasperation under his teasing tone.

Unlike some I could name, I am actually literate, you know, she flashed back, and David winced theatrically.

Ouch, that hurt, and it wasn't even aimed at me. Very well, little Miss Know-it-all, Shasa challenged. If you are so clever, what does that sign say? He pointed ahead to a large white signboard beside the autobahn.

The lettering was in black, and Tara read it aloud.

It says: "Jews! Keep straight on! This road will take you back to Jerusalem, where you belong!" As she realized what she had said, she flushed with embarrassment and leaned forward to touch David's shoulder over the back of his seat.

Oh David, I'm so sorry. I should never have uttered such rot! David sat straight, staring ahead through the windscreen, and then after a few seconds he gave a thin little smile.

Welcome to Berlin, he whispered. The centre of Aryan civilization. Welcome to Berlin! Welcome to Berlin! The train that had brought them across half of Europe slid into the station, clouds of steam hissing from the vacuum brakes and the cries of greeting almost drowned by the beat of the band playing a rousing martial air.

Welcome to Berlin! The waiting crowd surged forward at the moment their coach came to a standstill, and Manfred De La Rey stepped down from the balcony to be surrounded by well-wishers, smiling happy faces and friendly handclasps, laughing girls and wreaths of flowers, shouted questions and popping flash bulbs.

The other athletes, all dressed like him in green blazers with gold piping, white slacks and shoes and Panama hats, were also surrounded and mobbed and it was some minutes before a loud voice rose above the hubbub.

Attention, please! May I have your attention. The band beat out a ruffle of drums while a tall man in a dark uniform and steelrimmed spectacles stepped forward.

First of all let me offer you the warm greetings of the Fahrer and the German people, and we welcome you to these the eleventh Olympic Games of the modern era. We know that you will represent the spirit and courage of the South African nation, and we wish you all success and many, many medals. Amidst clapping and laughing, the speaker held up his hands. There are motor vehicles waiting to take you to your quarters in the Olympic village, where you will find all preparations have been made to make your stay with us both memorable and enjoyable. Now it is my pleasant duty to introduce the young lady who will be your guide and your interpreter over the next few weeks. He beckoned to somebody in the crowd, and a young woman stepped out into the space beside him and turned to face the band of athletes. There was a collective sigh and hum of appreciation.

This is Heidi Kramer. She was tall and strong, but unmistakably feminine, with hips and bosom like an hour-glass, yet touched with a dancer's grace and a gymnast's poise. Her hair was the colour of the Kalahari dawn, Manfred thought, and her teeth when she smiled were perfect, their edges minutely serrated and translucent as fine bone china, but her eyes were beyond description, bluer and clearer than the high African sky at noon, and he knew without any hesitation that she was the most magnificent woman he had ever seen. At the thought he made a silent guilty apology to Sarah, but compared to this German Valkyrie, Sarah was a sweet little tabby cat beside a female leopard in her prime.

Now Heidi will arrange for your baggage to be collected and will get you all seated in the limousines. From now on if there is anything you need, ask Heidi! She is your big sister and your stepmother. They laughed and whistled and cheered and Heidi, smiling and charming but quick and efficient, took over. Within minutes their baggage had been whisked away by a band of uniformed porters and she led them down the long glassdomed platform to the magnificent entrance portals of the railway station where a line of black Mercedes limousines was waiting for them.

Manfred, Uncle Tromp and Roelf Stander climbed into the back seat of one of them, and the driver was just about to pull away when Heidi waved to him and came running back along the kerb. She wore high heels and they threw tension on her calf muscles, emphasizing their lovely lines and the fine delicacy of her ankles. Neither Sarah nor any of the girls Manfred knew at home wore high heels.

Heidi opened the front passenger door and stuck her head into the Mercedes. You gentlemen will object if I ride with you, yes? she asked with that radiant smile, and they all protested vigorously, even Uncle Tromp joining in.

No! No! Please come in. She slipped into the seat beside the driver, slammed the door, and immediately wriggled round so that she was facing them, with her arms folded along the back of her seat.

I am so excited to meet you, she told them in her accented English. I have read so much about Africa, the animals and the Zulus, and one day I will travel there. You must promise to tell me all about your beautiful country, and I will tell you all about my beautiful Germany. They agreed enthusiastically, and she looked directly at Uncle Tromp.

Now, let me guess. You will be the Reverend Tromp Bierman, the team boxing coach? she asked, and Uncle Tromp beamed.

How clever of you. I have seen your photograph, she admitted. 'How could I forget such a magnificent beard? Uncle Tromp looked highly gratified. But you must tell me who the others are. This is Roelf Stander, our heavyweight boxer, Uncle Tromp introduced them. 'And this is Manfred De La Rey, our light heavyweight. Manfred was certain that she reacted to his name, a lift to one corner of her mouth and slight narrowing of the eyes; then she was smiling again. We will all be good friends, she said, and Manfred replied in German.

My people, the Afrikaners, have always been the loyal friends of the German people. Oh, your German is perfect, she exclaimed with delight in the same language. Where did you learn to speak like a true German? My paternal grandmother and my mother were both pureblooded Germans. Then you will find much to interest you in our country. She switched back to English and began to lecture, pointing out the sights of the city as the line of black Mercedes, Olympic pennants fluttering on the bonnets, sped through the streets.

This is the famous Unter den Linden, the street we Berliners love so dearly. It was broad and magnificent with linden trees growing down the promenade that divided the double carriageway. The street is a mile long. That is the royal palace behind us, and there ahead of us is the Brandenburg Tor. The tall colonnades of the monument were decked with enormous banners that hung from the quadriga charioteer group of figures on the summit to the ground far below; the crimson and black swastika flanked by the multi-coloured rings of the Olympic symbol billowed and heaved in the light breeze.

That is the state opera house, Heidi turned to point through the side window. It was built in 1741 She was entertaining and informative.

See how the people of Berlin welcome you, she cried, with that gay brittle enthusiasm which seemed to characterize all the citizens of National Socialist Germany. Look!

Look! Berlin was a city of flags and banners. From every public building, department store, apartment block and private dwelling the flags fluttered and waved, swastikas and the Olympic rings, thousands upon tens of thousands.

When they came at last to the apartment block in the Olympic village that had been set aside for them, an honour guard of the Hitler Youth with burning torches waited to welcome them, and another band drawn up on the sidewalk broke into The Voice of South Africa', the national anthem.

Inside the building Heidi issued each of them with a booklet filled with coloured coupons by which every last detail of their personal arrangements were organized, from their room and the bed on which they would sleep, and the buses that would carry them to and from the Olympic complex, to the chanong rooms and the numbers of the lockers that they had been allocated at the stadium.

Here in this house you will have your own chef and dining-hall. Food will be prepared to your own preference, with due regard to any special diets or tastes. There is a doctor and a dentist available at any hour. Dry-cleaning and laundry, radios and telephones, a private masseur for the team, a secretary with a typewriter, It had all been arranged, and they were amazed by the precise, meticulous planning.

Please find your rooms, your luggage is already there waiting for you. Unpack and relax. Tomorrow morning I will take you on the bus for a tour of the Reichssportfeld, the Olympic complex. It is ten miles from here, so we will leave immediately after breakfast at eight-thirty am. In the meantime, if there is anything, anything at all, that you want, you have only to ask me. I know what I'd like to ask her for, one of the weightlifters whispered, rolling his eyes, and Manfred clenched his fists with anger at the impertinence, even though Heidi had not heard it.

Until tomorrow, she called gaily, and went through to the kitchens to talk to the chef.

Now that is what I call a woman Uncle Tromp growled.

I give thanks that I am a man of the cloth, old and happily married, and beyond all the temptations of Eve., There were cries of mock commiserations for Uncle Tromp was by this time everybody's uncle.

All right! He was suddenly stern.

Running shoes, all you lazy young dogs. A quick ten miles before supper, please! Heidi was waiting for them when they came down to breakfast, gay and bright and smiling, answering their questions, distributing mail from home, sorting out a dozen small problems quickly and without fuss, and then when they had eaten, taking them off in a group to the bus station.

Most of the athletes from the other countries were in residence, and the village was bustling and full of tense excitement, men and women in sporting attire running through the streets, calling to each other in a multiplicity of tongues, their superb physical condition showing in their bright young faces and in every movement that they made.

When they came to the stadium, the size of it awed them all. A huge complex of halls, gymnasiums and covered swirnMing-pools surrounded the oval track and field theatre. The banks of seating seemed to reach away for ever, and the Olympic altar at the far end with the unlit tripod torch gave a sense of religious solemnity to this temple devoted to the worship of the human body.

It took the morning for them to see it all, and they had a hundred questions between them. Heidi answered them all, but more than once Manfred found her walking beside him, and when they spoke German together it gave them a sense of intimacy, even in the crowd. it was not his imagination alone, for Roelf had noticed the special attention Manfred was receiving.

How are you enjoying your German lessons? he asked innocently at lunch, and when Manfred snarled at him he grinned unrepentantly.

Their hosts had arranged sparring partners from the local boxing clubs, and over the days that followed, Uncle Tromp drove them hard towards the pinnacle of their training.

Manfred tore at his opponents, slamming punches into the thick padding that covered their midriffs and heads, so that even with that protection none of them lasted more than a round or two before calling for quarter; and when Manfred went back to his corner and looked around it was usually to find Heidi Kramer watching from somewhere near at hand, a flush on her flawless neck, a strange intent look in those impossibly blue eyes, her lips slightly parted and the tip of her pink tongue held between sharp white teeth.

However, it was only after four days of training that he found himself alone with her. He had finished a hard session in the gymnasium and after showering and changing into grey slacks and a Varsity sweater, he went out through the front entrance of the stadium.

He had almost reached the bus station when she called his name and ran to catch up with him.

I am also going back to the village. I have to talk to the chef – may I ride the bus with you? She must have been waiting for him and he felt flattered and a little nervous.

She had a free, hip-swinging walk, and her hair swayed around her head like a sheet of golden silk when she looked up at him as they walked down to the bus station.

I have been watching the boxers from the other countries, she said, especially the light heavyweights, and I have also been watching you. Yes. He frowned to cover his embarrassment. I saw you., You have nobody to fear, except the American. Cyrus Lomax, he nodded. 'Yes, Ring Magazine rates him the best amateur light heavyweight in the world. Uncle Tromp has been watching him also. He agrees that he is very good. Very strong, and being a nigger, he will have a skull like solid ivory. He is the only one you will have to beat for the gold, she agreed. The gold, the sound of it on her lips had a music that quickened his pulse. And I will be there cheering for you., Thank you, Heidi. They boarded the bus, and when the men in the other seats glanced at Heidi with admiration, he felt proud to have her at his side.

My uncle is a great follower of boxing. He thinks as I do, that you have a good chance of beating the American negro.

He would like very much to meet you. It is kind of your uncle. 'He is having a small reception at his home this evening.

He asks me to invite you. You know that is not possible, he shook his head. My training schedule, My uncle is an important and very influential man,, she insisted, holding her head on one side and smiling appealingly up at him. it will be very early. I promise you will be home before nine o'clock. She saw him hesitate and went on, It will make my uncle, and me, very happy., I have an uncle also, Uncle Tromp, If I get your Uncle Tromp's permission, will you promise to come? Heidi was waiting in the Mercedes at the front door of their house in the village at seven o'clock, as she had arranged. The driver held the rear door open for him and Manfred slid onto the leather seat beside her.

She smiled at him. You look very handsome, Manfred., She had plaited her blond hair into two thick gleaming ropes and piled them on top of her head. Her shoulders and the upper slopes of her stately bosom were bare and snowy perfection. Her blue taffeta cocktail dress matched the colour of her eyes perfectly.

You are beautiful, he said with wonder in his tone. He had never paid a compliment to a woman before, but this was a mere statement of fact. She lowered her eyes, a touchingly modest gesture from someone who must be accustomed to male adulation.

To the Rupertstrasse, she ordered the driver.

They drove slowly down the Kurfarstendamin, watching the throngs of merry-makers on the brightly lit sidewalks, then the Mercedes accelerated as they entered the quieter streets of the westerly section of the Granewald district.

This was the millionaires, village on the western outskirts of the sprawling city, and Manfred relaxed and settled back against the leather upholstery and turned to the lovely woman beside him. She was talking seriously, asking him questions about himself and his family, and about his country. Quickly he realized that she had a much better knowledge of South Africa than he could have expected, and he wondered how she had acquired it.

She knew the history of war and conflict and rebellion, the struggle of his people against the barbarous black tribes, and then the subjugation of the Afrikaner by the British, and the terrible threats to their existence as a people.

The English, she said, and there was a knife-edge of bitterness in her tone. They are everywhere, bringing war and suffering with them, Africa, India, my own Germany. We too have been oppressed and persecuted. if it were not for our beloved Fithrer, we should still be staggering under the yoke of the Jew and the English. Yes, he is a great man, your Fahrer, Manfred agreed and then he quoted: What we must fight for is to safeguard the existence and reproduction of our race and our people, the sustenance of our children and the purity of our blood, the freedom and independence of the fatherland, so that our people may mature for the fulfilment of the mission allotted it by the creator of the universe. Wein Kampf, she exclaimed. You can quote the words of the Fuhrer! They had passed a signing ant milestone in their relationship, Manfred realized.

With those words he has captured everything that I feel and believe, he said. He is a great man, head of a great nation. The house in the Rupertstrasse was set back from the road in large gardens on the bank of one of the beautiful Havel Lakes. There were a dozen chauffeured limousines parked

in the driveway, most of them with swastika pennants on their bonnets and uniformed chauffeurs waiting behind the wheels. All the windows of the large house were lit and there was the sound of music and voices and laughter as their own chauffeur let them out of the Mercedes under the portico.

Manfred offered Heidi his arm and they went in through the open front doors, crossed a lobby of black and white chequered marble slabs and panelled walls decorated with a forest of stag antlers, and paused in the doorway of the large reception room beyond. The room was already filled with guests. Most of the men were in dashing uniforms that glittered with the insignia of rank and regiment, while the women were elegant in silks and velvets, with shoulders bare and hair bobbed in the latest style.

The laughter and conversation subsided as they turned to examine the newcomers, and there were interested and calculating appraisals, for Manfred and Heidi made a strikingly handsome couple. Then the conversation picked up again.

There is Uncle Sigmund, Heidi exclaimed, and drew Manfred into the room towards the tall uniformed figure who came to meet them.

Heidi, my dear. He stooped over Heidi's hand as he kissed it. 'You grow more beautiful each time I see you., Manfred, this is my uncle, Colonel Sigmund Boldt. Uncle Sigmund, may I present Herr Manfred De La Rey, the South African boxer. Colonel Boldt shook hands with Manfred. He had pure white hair scraped severely back from the thin face of an academic, with good bone structure and a narrow aristocratic nose.

Heidi tells me that you are of German extraction? He wore a black uniform with silver death's head insignia on the lapels; and one eyelid drooped, while the eye itself watered uncontrollably and he dabbed at it with the fine linen handkerchief he held in his right hand.

That is true, Colonel. I have very strong ties to your country, Manfred replied.

Ah, you speak excellent German. The colonel took his arm. 'There are many people here this evening who will want to meet you, but first tell me, what do you think of the black American boxer, Cyrus Lomax? And what will be your tactics when you meet him? With discreet social grace, either Heidi or Colonel Boldt were always on hand to steer him from one group of guests to the next, and the wine waiter brought him a glass of mineral water when he refused the champagne that was offered.

However, they left him longer than usual with one guest whom Heidi had introduced as General Zoller, a tall Prussian officer in field grey uniform with an iron cross at the throat who, despite a rather undistinguished and forgettable face with pale sickly features, proved to have a sharp incisive intelligence. He questioned Manfred minutely on the politics and conditions in South Africa, particularly as to the feelings of the average Afrikaner towards their ties to Great Britain and the Empire.

While they spoke, General Zoller chain-smoked a series of thin cigarettes wrapped in yellow paper with a strong herbal odour, and every now and again he wheezed with asthma. Manfred quickly found that he was sympathetic and had an encyclopaedic grasp of African affairs; the time passed very quickly before Heidi came across the room and touched his arm.

Excuse me, General Zoller, but I have promised the boxing coach that I will have his star back before nine o'clock. I have enjoyed meeting you, young man. The general shook Manfred's hand. Our countries should be good friends. Manfred assured him, I will do all in my power to bring that about., Good luck for the Games, Herr de La Rey. in the Mercedes again Heidi remarked, My uncle liked you very much, and so did many of his friends, General Zoller for one. I enjoyed the evening. Do you like music, Manfred? He was a little surprised by the question. I enjoy some music, but I am no expert. 'Wagner? Yes, I like Wagner very much. Uncle Sigmund has given me two tickets to the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra for next Friday. The young conductor Herbert von Karajan is performing a programme of Wagner. I know you will be fighting your first bout that afternoon, but afterwards we could celebrate. She hesitated, and then she went on quickly, Forgive me, you think me forward, but I assure you No, no. I would be greatly honoured to accompany you whether I win or lose. 'You will win, she said simply. I know you will., She dropped him in front of the team house, and waited until he had gone in before she ordered the driver, Back to the Rupertstrasse. When she got back to the colonel's house most of the other guests were leaving. She waited quietly until he came back from seeing the last of them away and, with an inchnation of his silver hair, ordered her to follow him. His treatment of her had altered completely, it was now brusque and superior.

He crossed to the unobtrusive oak door at the far end of the room and went in ahead of her. Heidi entered and closed the door behind her softly, then drew herself to attention and stood waiting. Colonel Boldt left her standing while he poured two balloon glasses of cognac and took one to General Zoller where he sat in the wingbacked chair beside the log fire in the stone fireplace, puffing at one of his herbal cigarettes, with an open file on his knees.

So, FrIulein, Colonel Boldt sank into the leather chair and waved Heidi towards the couch, sit down. You may relax in your "uncle's" house. She smiled politely but sat stiff-backed on the edge of the couch and Colonel Boldt turned back to the general.