“My goodness,” said Frau Graben. “You’re all of a jump.”
“I’m thinking of the Count’s taking the children.”
“I tell you he daren’t. The Countess wouldn’t have it—particularly now there’s this fresh scandal. That girl of his, the innkeeper’s daughter, she was to have a child and she has taken her life.”
“I saw her grave, freshly dug,” I said.
“Poor soul! It’s the end for her. And what a way to die. She threw herself from the topmost attic of the inn into her father’s courtyard. They say be found her there. He’s nigh demented. She was his only child.”
“What a terrible tragedy!”
“She was a fool. He would have taken care of her and the child even though he was tired of her. There would have been another little one to join us. These poor girls. It’s so romantic in the beginning and then there’s the reckoning.”
“But not for him,” I said angrily.
“Fredi looks upon it as his right. And she knew that from the start. It’s happened to others before. Poor poor child. It had to end though. Fredi wouldn’t stay faithful forever. But it’s over now—a warning to young girls. Now cheer up. I tell you, he won’t take the children. How can he? The Countess won’t have them under the same roof as the future Count. No, here they’ll stay. You see. And now all we have to do is wait for Maxi to come back.”
How I yearned for that day!
It must have been just past midnight. I had retired to bed as usual and was in a deep sleep when I was awakened to find Frieda standing by my bed with a candlestick in which was a lighted candle.
“Miss Trant,” she cried. “Wake up. Fritz isn’t in his bed.”
I started up and hastily put on slippers and a dressing gown.
“He must be walking again, Miss Trant. I went in because I thought I heard a sound, and he wasn’t there. His bed is empty.”
Frieda was trembling so much that the box of matches in the saucer-like base of the candlestick fell onto the bed. She replaced them with shaking fingers.
“We’d better look for him,” I said.
“Yes, miss.”
I ran out of my room, she followed holding the candle high.
I went to Fritz’s room. His bed was empty.
“He can’t be far,” I said.
“Miss,” said Frieda, “there’s a draft on the turret stairs. I couldn’t understand . . .”
“A draft! But that would mean a window was open somewhere.”
I started toward the turret stairs. I realized at once what she meant. If the door was shut there would be no draft. It could only be if the window was open . . .
I was frightened. Fritz walking in his sleep, into the turret room, to the window—the window from which long ago poor Girda had flung herself. Girda’s story had caught his imagination; I believed I had suppressed the children’s unhealthy fear of ghosts, but how could I be sure of what went on in their innermost minds, and if Fritz were sleepwalking . . .
I ran up the stairs. The door was open; there was no doubt that the draft came from the open window.
Frieda was close at my heels with the candle which was a good thing for it was a dark night; there was a certain amount of mist in the air, but the candlelight showed me the room with the open window, the window from which Girda had thrown herself and from which there was a steep drop to the valley below.
I ran to it and leaned out. I could just make out the shadowy shape of the mountainside. I sensed a presence behind me. A warm breath seemed to touch my neck. In that instant I thought: Someone is going to force me out of the window.
There was a sudden scream and a blaze of light illuminated the room. I saw Frieda cowering against the wall. She no longer held the candle but was staring in horror at the velvet table covering which was on fire. I forgot my terror of a few moments before. I rushed to pick up a rug and started to beat out the flames.
Frau Graben appeared, a candle in her hand, her hair in iron curlers under a nightcap.
“Mein Gott!” she cried. “What is happening?”
I continued to beat out the smoldering remains of the tablecloth. My mouth was parched and for a moment I could not speak. Then I said: “Frieda dropped the candle . . . and I think there was someone here. Frieda, did you see anyone?”
She shook her head. “I dropped the candle . . . the flame caught the matches . . . the whole box went up in flames . . .”
“Where were you, Frau Graben?” I asked. “Did you see anyone? You must have.”
“There was no one on the stairs.”
Frieda cried: “It must have been the ghost.”
“You’re shaking like a leaf,” said Frau Graben to me. “But why did you come up here?”
“Fritz!” I cried. “I’m forgetting Fritz. I came to look for him. He’s sleepwalking again.”
“Well, he’s not here,” said Frau Graben.
I stared fearfully at the window. “We must search everywhere . . . everywhere,” I cried frantically.
“Come then,” said Frau Graben. “Frieda, damp down that cloth just in case. Make sure there’s no danger.”
We went down the stairs to Fritz’s room. His door was open. To my great relief he was in his bed.
“Fritz,” I cried bending over him, “are you all right?”
“Hello, Miss Trant,” he said sleepily.
I kissed him and he smiled happily. I felt his hand. It was warm. I remembered how icily cold his hands and feet had been on that other occasion when I had found him walking in his sleep.
“I’ve been to see a horse,” he murmured. “All polished it was, and shiny and there was a man sitting on it with a gold crown on his head.”
“You’ve been dreaming, Fritz,” I said.
“Yes,” he murmured, closing his eyes.
Frau Graben said: “Well we’d better get to our beds.”
She came back to my room with me.
“You’ve had a nasty shock, miss,” she said. “I didn’t want to say too much in front of Frieda. She was near hysteria. You say someone was behind you?”
“Yes.”
“Yet Frieda saw nothing.”
“I can’t understand it. But it all happened in a moment. She dropped the candle and the matches caught fire. That saved me, I think.”
“They’d say it was the ghost. That was why we kept the room locked. They used to say that if anyone went up there and leaned out of that window they wouldn’t be able to stop themselves going over.”
“That’s nonsense. Someone was there—behind me.”
“Can you be sure? When Frieda saw nobody.”
“Do you think I imagined it?”
“I don’t know what to say, but I reckon you ought not to go on brooding on it. I’ll bring you a drop of hot cordial; it’ll put you to sleep; and if you lock your door you’ll feel safe. Then after a good night’s sleep you can start worrying about what really happened.”
She slipped out and shortly returned with the cordial. It was hot and warming. She took the glass away. I locked myself into my room, and to my surprise I was soon fast asleep. Her cordial must have been very potent.
I woke in the morning feeling heavyheaded. I washed and dressed hurriedly, thinking about last night’s terrifying incident. By daylight it no longer seemed fantastic. I had had an anxious time and may have imagined that someone was behind me and that had Frieda not dropped the candle I should have been forced out of the window. It seemed the most logical conclusion. The innkeeper’s daughter’s death was in my mind, and she, poor sad girl, had fallen to her death. Was I becoming fanciful? It was unlike me, it was true, but possible, I supposed.
I told myself that I must be calm and behave normally so I went to the schoolroom to find Fritz and Liesel there alone. They told me that Dagobert was not up.
“He’s lazy,” said Fritz.
“No, he’s not,” contradicted Liesel, protecting Dagobert as usual. “He’s an old sleepyhead this morning.”
&nb
sp; I said I would go and wake him.
“We’ve had our breakfast,” said Liesel. “Fritz was naughty.”
“I wasn’t,” retorted Fritz.
“Yes, he was, he left half his milk.”
“I always leave half my milk. You know Dagobert drinks it.”
“He drinks it for you.”
“No he doesn’t. He drinks it because he likes it.”
I left them arguing and went into Dagobert’s room. The boy was lying flat on his back. I bent over him and a great fear struck me. “Dagobert!” I cried. “Wake up, Dagobert!”
He did not open his eyes. I bent over him studying him intently. This was no ordinary sleep.
I ran as fast as I could to Frau Graben’s sitting room.
She was eating a slice of pumpernickel sprinkled with the caraway seeds which she liked so much. Nothing that happened could affect her appetite.
“Frau Graben,” I said. “I’m worried about Dagobert. I wish you’d come and look at him.”
“Isn’t he up?”
“No. He’s asleep. It’s rather peculiar.”
She left her pumpernickel and came with me.
She took one look at the boy and felt his pulse.
“Mein Gott!” she cried. “What goes on in this place. He’s been put to sleep.”
“Dagobert! Put to sleep!” I cried.
She shook her head gravely.
“Something strange is going on,” she said. “I don’t like it. I wish I knew who was responsible for this.”
“What shall we do?”
“Leave him to sleep it off. We’ll tell the children Dagobert’s not feeling well and will spend the morning in bed and they’re not to disturb him.”
“Has this anything to do with last night, I wonder?”
“What could it have? Do you know, Miss Trant?”
“I’ve no idea. All I’m convinced of is that last night someone was waiting in the turret room to kill me.”
“Have you an idea who?”
“No. But it has something to do with my relationship with Maximilian.”
“Ah,” she said, “but we don’t want to get ideas and fancies till we’re sure, do we?”
“I feel very uneasy.”
“That’s a good sign. You’ll be on your guard.”
“So many strange things are happening. Fritz walking in his sleep . . .”
“He’s done that often.”
“What of Dagobert?”
“The young monkey got hold of someone’s laudanum bottle and took a swig or two. Nobody would be very surprised at that. We know what he is. He’s into everything.”
“It’s too glib an explanation,” I said, “following on what happened to me.”
“We’ll let him sleep it out. He’ll be himself before the day’s out.”
We went back to the schoolroom.
Fritz was telling Liesel: “And I dreamed that someone came in and picked me up and I was carried away and away . . . and I was in a new country and there was a horse . . . a horse with a man on it and the man had a crown on his head . . . all polished it was.”
That afternoon I was in my room when there was a tap on the door. I called “Come in” and Prinzstein entered.
“I have the carriage below, Miss Trant,” he said. “The Duchess sent a message that I was to take you to the Landhaus. She is holding a meeting there of those who are to help her in the hospital.”
“I had no message,” I said.
“It came some time ago. I told Frieda to tell you. I believe Frau Graben called her away for something. She must have forgotten it. I hope you will not be too angry with her. She is of a nervous nature and the fire in the turret room upset her, so she is not herself.”
“I understand, of course, but I am not ready.”
“Perhaps you will be as quick as possible, Miss Trant. We must not keep Her Grace waiting.”
The idea of meeting that woman again made me very apprehensive. This time however there would be others there—her helpers. I knew that war was very close indeed. It seemed inevitable now, and she would naturally wish to get her hospital into working order as soon as possible.
I changed my dress and combed my hair. I wanted to look as attractive as I could. That would give me courage in the presence of the woman who believed herself to be Maximilian’s wife.
Fifteen minutes after Prinzstein had knocked at my door we were driving to the Landhaus Schloss. We drove to the town and then through the valley to the other side of the mountain. There it stood—a yellowish gold-colored castle, smaller than Klocksburg but beautifully perched on the hillside among the pine woods. We drove through the gates under the castellated tower into a courtyard.
We entered the castle and I saw that the Rittersaal had already been made into a ward and several beds had been placed side by side.
Prinzstein led me to a small room at which was a table with chairs placed round it. On the table was a bottle of wine and several glasses, with a plate of little spiced cakes.
“It seems that I am not late after all,” I said.
“Her Grace and the other ladies have not yet arrived. Or perhaps they are inspecting another part of the castle. Equipment is being brought in every day. Her Grace’s instruction was that I was to offer you refreshment as soon as you arrived.”
“Thank you. I prefer to wait for the others.”
“Her Grace said immediately when you arrive. She will not be pleased if you refuse. This wine is from the vines of Klarenbock. She sets great store by it and I will warn you she likes everyone to praise it. She will no doubt ask your opinion. She says it is better than anything that comes from the French wine-growing country or the Moselle district.”
“I would rather wait.”
He poured a glass. “Just taste it,” he said, “and as soon as you see her take an opportunity of telling her how good is the flavor.”
I sipped it. I could taste nothing special about it. He offered me one of the spiced cakes. They were similar to those which Frau Graben ate in such quantities, and I refused.
Prinzstein went on to say that it would not be long before war was declared. He reckoned he would have to go. There would be changes. Wars were terrible.
He left me sipping the wine and said he would go and see if anyone was arriving. He left me in the room for a few moments and when he came back said that Her Grace had arrived and had gone straight up to the rooms at the top of the castle which would be used for those who were not badly wounded, and she wished me to join her and the others there.
Prinzstein led the way. We climbed a broad staircase to a landing and then mounted a spiral stair. This was very similar to Klocksburg and the room I entered bore a resemblance to the turret room there.
She was there and to my surprise, alone. There was something different about her. Her expression was as cold as it had been on that other occasion but there was an excitement behind it. She appeared to be suppressing some inner emotion.
“Ah, Miss Trant,” she said, “it was good of you to come so promptly.”
“I feared I might have kept you waiting. I understand you are calling together several of those who will help in the hospital.”
“There is someone here. She will come in shortly. Perhaps you would like to see the view while you are waiting. There is a door leading out to a little tower. It’s called the Cats’ Tower. You have seen such towers before, I am sure. Boiling oil and missiles used to be thrown on invaders from them. The noise it made was like screaming cats. You can imagine that, I am sure, Miss Trant.”
“Yes,” I said.
“The view is magnificent, is it not? Straight down the steep side of the mountain to the valley. Do you wonder what it would be like to plunge straight down to . . . death.”
“Such a thought had not entered my mind.”
“Had it not? It is a way to die. You know, of course, of the legend at Klocksburg. A young woman years ago threw herself out of the window there. The room is said to be ha
unted.”
“I know of that—yes.”
“Well, you know Klocksburg well. But you are not superstitious. You are practical—the sort I shall need in my hospital, I am sure. That girl killed herself because she had been deceived—a mock marriage with one of the Dukes. One can understand in a way. Can you understand, Miss Trant?”
She was standing very close to me, her eyes inscrutable, and for the second time I had the alarming feeling that I was in great danger. I grasped the stone balustrade firmly. I saw her eyes go to my clenched hands.
“It’s a strange afternoon,” she said. “Do you feel it? There’s a humidity in the air. Does it make you feel sleepy?”
I replied that on the contrary I felt very wide awake.
“Let us go inside for a moment,” she said. “There is something I have to say to you.”
I was relieved to get away from the tower. She sat down and signed to me to take a chair.
When we were seated she said: “You are aware, Miss Trant, that I know a good deal about you.”
“I have no idea what you know about me.”
“About you, and my husband. I have learned that there was a ceremony in a hunting lodge. Do you really believe that was a true marriage?”
I knew I had to speak then. “It was a real marriage,” I said. “I am his wife.”
“In that case, who am I?”
“You are not his wife.”
“It is not possible for a Princess of Klarenbock to be in the position you suggest I am in.”
“It is possible. Moreover it is a fact.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I mean that it is not possible for such a slur on our house to be accepted. Do you understand that you are in acute danger?”
I stood up. “I think we should discuss this when Maximilian returns.”
“We are going to settle it now.”
“How can we without him? He is planning to tell you. It is no fault of his, yours or mine that we are in this position.”