‘What are you doing?’ Jakob stepped backwards.
Raluca did it again.
‘Oh Raluca, we need to get you out of here.’
The stallion tossed his head and snorted, snatching the lead rein out of Jakob’s hand. Before he could grab it again, the horse stepped round him and walked over to Allegra. Lowering his head, he sniffed the straw and sacking.
Puzzled, Jakob stood back and watched.
The stallion carefully took hold of the corner of one sack with his teeth, pulling it off to reveal Allegra’s head. Jakob held his breath. The birds singing in the distance seemed very loud. What was Raluca doing?
The horse moved closer, ears twitching. He gently placed his muzzle on Allegra’s head, nickering softly.
Jakob gulped. Pulling his sweater over his hand, he wiped away the tears trickling down his cheek. ‘Goodbye, Allegra,’ he whispered.
Raluca looked up at Jakob, then moved back to Allegra, nuzzling the stallion once more. He nickered a final farewell before walking towards the boy, his head held low. Jakob took hold of his lead rein. Raluca snuffled his outstretched hand, blowing hot air across it.
‘Now I understand. You had to say goodbye too, didn’t you? Come on, let’s take you to a new stable.’ He eased the stallion out onto the cobbles.
Jakob moved Raluca into a stall in the opposite part of the yard, nearer the food store and well away from Allegra. He moved as many of the stallions as he could to the spare stalls on that side.
‘Raluca, who’s going to help me join the Riding School now? Allegra understood me. We grew up together. He used to be the best at helping me to hide from the Nazis, back in Vienna.’
Raluca nickered, almost as if he was answering him. Jakob kicked the straw around in the stall, spreading it out with his foot. ‘I was going to show Herr Engel how good we were. You know how many exercises I’d been doing with him.’
The stallion pulled some hay out of a freshly hung net, munching away, while Jakob put a bucket of fresh water in the corner.
‘I’ve got to start all over again.’ His shoulders slumped. He’d lost his best friend. He felt so alone.
Patting the horse’s rump, he briefly smiled to himself. It had been good when Herr Engel had called him his nephew though, even if he had only said so to protect him.
It was over an hour before his guardian returned. He said nothing of where he’d been or what he’d done. He went straight into the house, which formed the third side of the yard, only coming back out later, when Jakob had finished moving and mucking out all the horses and the yard was shrouded in darkness.
‘Supper?’
Jakob walked into the kitchen and collapsed into a chair. The fire was alight in the range.
‘That smells good.’ Jakob realised he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
‘Nothing exciting. Goulash again, but it’ll fill you up.’
Jakob didn’t care, he was starving. The hot paprika smell tickled his nose. He picked up the bread roll Herr Engel had placed by his bowl.
‘Did you find Erich?’
Herr Engel nodded. ‘The message has gone. Now we wait.’
Stuffing a chunk of bread in his mouth, Jakob mumbled, ‘Couldn’t we just go?’
His guardian served up his goulash and sat down. ‘We can’t go until I know they can take us and that the Director’s happy. We need to be ready, though, as soon as word comes.’
Jakob dunked another piece of bread in the stew, chasing meat and potatoes round as he let the bread soak up the sauce. Trying hard to keep the emotion out of his voice, he whispered, ‘I hope they won’t be long. Bauer wants my papers, doesn’t he?’
Herr Engel nodded. ‘Hmm. That man’s trigger happy. I saw it in his eyes.’
Jakob flinched.
The rumbling sound of a truck engine coming into the yard interrupted their meal. Jakob shot out of his seat, a knot of panic strangling his stomach. He could feel the colour draining out of his face. ‘Bauer?’
Herr Engel pushed him back into his seat, shaking his head. ‘No, don’t worry. It’s my arrangements.’ He walked over to the window and lifted the curtain to check. He nodded at someone, then moved over to the gramophone. Soon the dulcet tones of Strauss’s Vienna Waltz rolled around the room. He turned it up as loud as it would go.
The music brought back images of the dancing horses in Vienna. ‘What’s going on?’ Jakob asked Herr Engel, tipping his head to one side.
His guardian sat down. ‘Eat!’ he said, digging into his stew again.
Jakob pushed the food around, taking the odd mouthful. He could hear strange noises in the yard. He could bear it no more. Pushing his chair back, he moved towards the door. Herr Engel grabbed his arm.
‘No!’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s Herr Fichter.’
Jakob fell back into his chair. ‘The butcher?’
Herr Engel nodded. After a few minutes, he whispered, ‘It was the only way. I couldn’t let him rot.’
Jakob ran to the sink and retched. His head hung over the porcelain bowl.
‘I had to do it, for the sake of the other horses.’ His guardian shifted his chair. ‘We’ve got to face facts. We’re in danger. And it’s not just Bauer. As I was coming back along the road, I passed thirty or forty hungry refugees. One of our horses could make a meal for them.’
Jakob spun round, unable to bear it. ‘NO! I won’t let it happen. They can’t eat them and I’m not going to let Bauer shoot them either. I won’t, I WON’T!’
Anger was etched across Herr Engel’s face, his grey eyes hard as flint. ‘And you think I would? I’ve no intention of losing any more horses … or grooms for that matter. I’ve got a plan.’ He scraped his chair back and walked over to a cupboard. He pulled out an old double-barrelled shotgun and loaded it. ‘We’ll take it in turns to stay on guard in the stalls.’ He handed the gun over to Jakob. ‘You can go first. This old body needs its rest!’
The gun felt heavy and unfamiliar in Jakob’s hands. He turned it over and over. He had no idea how to use it.
‘Point at what you want to shoot and pull the trigger. Not that difficult,’ said Herr Engel. ‘Maybe I should’ve taught you sooner.’
‘Would’ve been more useful than English and geometry.’
His guardian raised one eyebrow.
Jakob had to look away. ‘Sorry.’ He pulled the gun up to his shoulder and swung round to face Herr Engel.
‘Whoa, it’s loaded, remember!’ he shouted, pushing the barrel away.
Jakob dropped the gun like a burning ember. ‘Sorry,’ he stammered. He felt so stupid. He pulled his sleeves down over his hands, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck.
‘Don’t do that either! It could go off.’ Herr Engel sighed, retrieving the shotgun. ‘You need to show the gun respect.’ He cocked it. ‘Look, this is how you reload it and get it ready to shoot.’ He handed it back to Jakob. ‘Go on, you have a go. Let me see.’
He did as he was told. At first he felt all fingers and thumbs. He wasn’t used to holding something so big and deadly and he was convinced he would kill Herr Engel at any moment. He loaded and unloaded it a couple of times, before looking up at his guardian.
‘Good! Keep doing it until it feels natural…’
Eventually Engel handed him a thermos and a couple of blankets. ‘Now I think it’s time. There’s some coffee in there to keep you warm.’
Jakob walked out into the yard and shivered. The temperature had plummeted. Spring definitely hadn’t arrived yet. He glanced over to where Allegra had been. There was no sign of the horse at all. They hadn’t heard Herr Fichter go. Gulping back bile again, he went over to Raluca’s stall.
‘Hello, lad, mind if I sleep with you tonight?’ He scratched the stallion’s withers and clicked his tongue. ‘Your coat has got much lighter over the winter, you know? It’s just like that moon up there.’ He pushed at the stallion. ‘Shove over.’
He took spare straw and mad
e a bed in the corner, putting a blanket across it before he lay down. ‘Ouch!’ He sat back up, pulling out bits of straw that had poked into his back. ‘This is going to be a long night,’ he sighed.
Jakob poured himself some of the coffee and sipped it. He didn’t really like the bitter taste, but it did warm him a bit as the hot liquid reached his stomach. Lying back down, he leant on his elbow and looked up at the sky through the stall door. A dim and distant memory flitted into his mind. The deep black velvet sky reminded him of his mother’s dresses. A time before the Nazis had spirited away his parents. A time long ago, before Herr Engel had found him hiding behind Allegra.
Jakob wondered where his parents were now. Dead? He sighed. That was something else he tried not to think about too often. He shook his head vigorously, trying to empty it of those fears. He looked at the stallion. ‘At least you don’t care who I am.’
Raluca, as if sensing his pain, put his muzzle on his shoulder and, huffing gently down his neck, nuzzled into him. Jakob smiled and rested his cheek against the horse’s head, breathing in his sweet smell. Raluca nudged him and whinnied softly.
He must have dozed off. There was a rustling in the feed store.
Damn, what was that? He knew it was too loud to be rats, and it wasn’t a noise the stallions made. He tried to rub the sight back into his eyes. They took a while to adjust to the thick blackness. Impenetrable clouds had blotted out any moonlight now.
His hand crept through the straw until his fingers curled round the cold metal of the shotgun. Slowly and carefully, he drew it towards him. His heart was pounding hard against his chest, the beat thrashing in his ears.
As quietly as he could while lying on a pile of straw, he pulled himself up to standing. Raluca stood to one side, letting him pass. Edging forward, he felt his way, relying on memory and his outstretched hand, feeling each step on the cobbles with his foot. He mustn’t startle whatever it was.
The clouds fractured and half a bloated, buttery moon lit the yard. Jakob heard someone take in a sharp breath. He gulped and moved towards the noise. It definitely came from the feed store. He pulled the gun up to his shoulder and pointed the long barrel forward, just as Herr Engel had shown him. It stretched out in front of him, shaking. He said his silent prayers again.
The door to the store creaked open.
Jakob held his breath and edged further forward, watching the door, waiting.
A shadow moved out. The moon seemed to get even brighter. Jakob found himself staring into huge dark eyes, fear spreading in them as they looked straight down the barrel of the gun. A flat cap pulled well down hid any hair. Clasped in the figure’s hands were two potatoes. He was obviously hungry. Should he blame him? How could he shoot him for a couple of potatoes?
His hesitation was enough – the shadow took its chance and ran.
‘Oi!’ shouted Jakob. He swung the gun into the air and his finger twitched at the trigger. A loud bang rang around the yard, startling the horses and sending Jakob flying backwards into a pile of straw. His shoulder throbbed.
The thief screamed as he disappeared. It was high pitched. Was it a girl?
Herr Engel opened the kitchen door. The light flooded out. ‘What’s going on?’ he shouted.
‘A thief.’
‘Did you get them?’ he asked, easing his stiff joints down the steps.
‘No, I don’t think so. They were stealing potatoes. See?’ He pointed at the dropped vegetables still rolling around on the floor. ‘Herr Engel, they didn’t look much older than me. They only took two potatoes, and I made them drop them.’ A lump of guilt stuck in Jakob’s stomach. This felt all wrong.
‘Damn them! Frightened the life out of me and all over two potatoes. A thief’s a thief, though. Your age, you say?’
‘Yes. Dressed like a boy, but I am sure it was a girl.’ He searched the darkness and wondered where she had gone. The look in her eyes was imprinted on his brain. ‘She was terrified.’
Herr Engel shook his head and took the gun off Jakob. ‘This world is full of madness. We’d better settle the horses again. Two gunshots in one day are enough to frighten anyone, let alone these highly strung beasts.’
Jakob looked round. The stallions were pacing around their stalls and snorting. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled.
After an hour of talking to the horses and calming them back down, he was exhausted. Well into the night, Herr Engel put a hand on his shoulder.
‘Get inside, you look frozen. Go in and I’ll take over the watch.’
The thought of a warm, soft bed was irresistible. He smiled at Herr Engel. ‘Are you sure?’ He prayed he wouldn’t change his mind.
‘Yup, go on, get to bed.’
‘Thank you.’
With relief, Jakob went into the house, leaving the groom on guard.
He flopped into his bed. However, when he closed his eyes, sleep eluded him. Instead he saw blood splattering from Allegra’s majestic head and the girl’s eyes full of fear. He could hear Bauer laughing manically, standing above them shouting, ‘I’m going to get you, Jew boy!’
He rolled face down, letting the pillow swallow his sobs.
Chapter 3
‘Come in here, Jakob. We need to talk,’ shouted Herr Engel from the tackroom.
By the time he got there, his guardian was already sitting in the corner, puffing on a cigarette. He’d picked up a bridle and was pulling the thread out of a broken section. Jakob hovered at the door, not quite sure what to do. The rich smell of leather and Herr Engel’s tobacco enveloped him.
His guardian didn’t look up. Instead, he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, the cigarette wobbling as he spoke, ’Sit down, lad.’ He nodded towards a stool. Jakob did as he was told. ‘Glad to see you’ve started to clean the tack they stamped on yesterday.’
‘Thank you. It was my fault they’d made the mess after all.’
Herr Engel ignored this. He picked up a needle and stitched away for a bit. Jakob watched him force the needle through the old leather, intrigued. It didn’t matter how many times he’d seen him do this, he was still fascinated.
‘Things are moving faster than I thought,’ said Herr Engel. ‘Erich has just brought a note from the Director. Our messages must have crossed. The Director’s concerned about the way the war’s going in Vienna, too, and wants all the stallions together.’ He pushed the needle through the other way. He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve decided not to hang on. We’re leaving tonight. I’ve sent a letter back to say as much.’
Jakob looked at him, surprised. ‘What?’
Herr Engel’s cigarette glowed red and the room filled with smoke. Wisps of white drifted up towards the ceiling. ‘He’s taking the rest of his stallions across from Vienna to Sankt Martin. He wants us to meet him there.’
Jakob didn’t know exactly where Sankt Martin was, other than over the mountains. ‘Are we leading them?’
Herr Engel worked quickly and deftly, before hanging up the finished bridle next to the saddle with military precision. He poured himself a coffee from his flask.
‘Yes.’ He took a sip. ‘We’re going to ride one each and lead the others. We need to get a good start, just in case Bauer does come back. He’ll be furious and might start a search.’ He peered over the lip of his cup.
Jakob didn’t want to think about how easily they could be caught. He picked up the brushes and started cleaning the grey hairs out of them, making a pile by his side.
Herr Engel stubbed his cigarette out on the bench. ‘Last night with the thief has shaken me, and the way Bauer is, it’s definitely time to move. With any luck we’ll reach Sankt Martin in a few days. It’s about a hundred and thirty kilometres. If we can travel thirty to forty kilometres a night we should get there in three to four nights, with a good wind, that is.’
Jakob gulped. He’d never ridden for that distance before. He dragged the curry comb across the brush, tugging out clumps of grey hair, before mumbling, ‘Will the horses be able to cope?’
&nbs
p; ‘They’ve no choice if they want to live. Horses are a lot tougher than you think.’ Jakob could feel his guardian’s eyes boring into him, before he took another long sip of coffee and moved away. ‘Anyway, today we groom all the horses, get the tack ready and then leave when the sun sets. You’ll need to pack.’ Herr Engel threw him an old carpet bag. ‘Use this.’
Jakob went to the house, climbing the stairs with a heavy heart. The spring sun was shining into his room. Motes of dust danced in its rays. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt. Excited? Scared? He stood and looked about him. There was a bed and a chest of drawers, that’s all. No hint of who he was.
Pushing the chest of drawers to one side, Jakob lifted the loose floorboard underneath it and pulled out a small package wrapped in one of his old shirts. He placed it on the bed and unwrapped it. Inside was his treasure.
There wasn’t much: a tatty, well-thumbed book of classical dressage he’d found on a stable floor back in Vienna. He flicked through it briefly. He knew every bit of it off by heart, all the pictures and all the words.
Next was a small framed photo of his parents. He ran his thumb over their picture and tried to remember what they’d sounded and smelt like. He wrapped them up again carefully, smoothing down the shirt. ‘You can go in here,’ he said, as he placed the package at the bottom of the bag. ‘Safe and sound.’
He grabbed the few clothes he had and stuffed them in too, then went back to Herr Engel.
Flight Page 2
