I took my seat. Not one of the guests recognized me or said hello. They all continued their private conversations. I watched as Karl went to Eva and bowed. Her eyes lit up as he complimented her dress and appearance. I heard him say, “How lovely you look . . . as radiant as the winter stars. . . .” He heaped on the flattery. She ordered a valet to rearrange the chairs so Karl could sit on her other side.
I had chosen a black dinner dress with long sleeves, offered to me by Cook when she learned of my invitation. I made sure my Party pin was prominently displayed. To complete my outfit, I had also been given a centuries-old “poison ring” by Karl. He had purchased it in an antiques shop in Munich. The ring consisted of a silver band with a black opal on its top, which concealed a secret compartment. In it were a few granules of cyanide.
As we waited for Hitler, some of the guests looked my way and asked a few ingratiating questions. I struggled to keep my hands from shaking. Karl and I had rehearsed our plan for several days. He said it was crucial that I remain calm at all times. I wished the evening were over—the experience with Minna had tempered my enthusiasm for intrigue. The only way I could keep my hands still was to grasp my fingers and keep them planted firmly in my lap.
Eva was captivated by Karl. She laughed and smiled and threw her head back as he chatted with her. She was the picture of a woman in the throes of flirtatious infatuation. His ploy worked so successfully that a shiver of jealousy settled upon me for an instant. However, it was ridiculous to feel jealous of Eva Braun. Hitler would have her tossed out of the Berghof, or worse, for any sexual indiscretion.
A tap on my arm startled me. A young woman, who wore a fine cream-colored dress dripping with accent jewels, stared at me. The neckline was fitted with an ermine collar. “I was admiring your ring,” she said to me. “May I look at it?” She reached expectantly toward my right hand.
I was taken aback by her request and I instinctively withdrew my hand. Karl noticed and his eyes caught mine. He nodded casually and continued his conversation with Eva.
“Of course,” I said, and held out my hand. “But please be careful, it’s very old—it was a gift from my great-grandmother.”
“Oh, I won’t touch it,” she said. She grasped my fourth finger and bent down, examining the ring for several moments. “It’s stunning. I love stones of all kinds. This is one of the most beautiful black opals I’ve ever seen. I do wish I could try it on.”
My heart jumped, but I managed to say, “I wish you could, too, but the band is very fragile. I only wear it on special occasions, such as tonight. Tea with the Führer! I don’t often get the chance.”
She released my hand. “I see. What do you do?”
“I’m in service to the Führer. I stand between him and death. I taste his food.” I imagined that my job would shock this lady, whoever she was, and that the description of my position might cause a reaction. It did. She suppressed a low moan, put her hand to her stomach and returned to the couch. A few minutes later, I caught her looking at me and whispering to the finely attired woman next to her. No introductions would be necessary now.
The south door opened. A valet entered and stood stiffly by it. Hitler, followed by several of his adjutants, entered the room. We all rose and saluted when he entered. He was wearing a black double-breasted suit. He seemed a little older, his face more careworn than the last time we had met. Blondi was by his side on the leash. As soon as the German shepherd entered the room, Eva’s dogs barked and howled. She commanded them to stop, but they paid little attention to her. Hitler frowned and handed Blondi back to his valet. The door closed and the dog was gone. We continued to stand until Hitler had made his way around the room, bowing to the women, kissing their hands, shaking hands with Karl and the other man before sitting in the chair next to me.
The leather crackled as he sat. He didn’t speak for several minutes; he brushed his brown hair back from his forehead several times and stared into the fire. The intensity of the blaze was mirrored in his eyes. I had been warned not to speak unless he had spoken to me. I fidgeted in my seat while the other guests fell silent waiting for the Führer to speak.
Finally, he said, “Go on with your chatter. Give me a few minutes to myself.”
Eva and the other guests immediately broke into conversation, laughing lightly, all the time watching Hitler out of the corners of their eyes. He appeared to be in bad sorts, as if the situational conference he had held earlier had not gone well. Karl and I had heard no shouting during the afternoon, but that didn’t mean anything. Hitler’s fury could have been silent, as deadly as a sniper. He might have even ordered executions. I looked casually at my lap and saw the black opal glinting up at me in the firelight.
Hitler leaned toward me and I jumped in my chair.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice dropped so low I could barely hear him. “I don’t want the others to know, especially these bloodsuckers Eva brings along, but I prefer my guests to hers; if it wasn’t for Mussolini I think I would have no friends at all.” He looked at the fire, where the gigantic logs hissed and popped on the andirons. “This fireplace will be here as long as the Reich stands. It’s made from red marble from the Untersberg. Mussolini has given me a fireplace, at the Eagle’s Nest.”
I had never been invited to the Eagle’s Nest, an even higher mountain retreat constructed for Hitler by Martin Bormann. “The fireplace is beautiful, Führer.” I stopped, carefully analyzing what I would say next. Karl and I had tried various scenarios over the weeks, but we knew we couldn’t prepare for every possible situation. “You bear the weight of the world upon your shoulders.”
He turned to me and smiled. Any ferocity in his eyes vanished. “The burdens I carry are for the Reich. None other, and so it shall be until the day I die.” He tapped his fingers on the arms of the chair. A valet came with a silver tea service and placed it in the center of the large table that our chairs surrounded. “But there should be no talk tonight of war. Tell me, how are your wedding plans coming?”
I bowed my head, embarrassed by his question. “We’ve moved forward somewhat.” I hoped my answer would appease him.
He reached across the small table and grabbed my right hand. “Tell me the date, my child. I want to be part of it, for I know I’ve been instrumental in your match.”
My heart pounded in my ears. He had hold of my hand and with it the poison ring. My mind begged him not to look at it.
A log popped and a spark skittered across the fireplace rug. The valet scurried to the ember and swept it up quickly into a dustpan. I took this diversion as an opportunity to withdraw my hand. Then the valet returned and poured tea into a porcelain cup for Hitler. The Führer placed the drink on the small table next to us and looked at me expectantly.
This was the chance I was waiting for. I knew there was no turning back. The timing must be perfect, otherwise Karl and I had agreed not to take the risk. Eva and the others were engaged in conversation; tea was being poured for the guests. I pulled out a handkerchief I had placed in my sleeve and dabbed at my eyes. “I am so overjoyed, my Führer. I can tell you we have planned a summer wedding.”
Hitler nodded with joy, placed his arm on my shoulder and pulled me toward him in a gentle hug. I accepted his embrace of congratulations, a rarely given token of affection. As I leaned toward him I covered my right hand with the handkerchief. I could not see it—nor could anyone else—but the ring was positioned over his teacup. I was about to release the catch on the opal with my thumb when Hitler looked down at the table. I had overlooked one fact. He hated germs—a stupid mistake on my part—my handkerchief over his cup must have upset him. His eyes flashed in disgust.
Our embrace was brief and he withdrew from me almost as quickly as he had drawn me forward. As the others were served and Hitler eyed the desserts, I stuffed the handkerchief back in my sleeve. The poison would have to wait for another time.
While the others drank, Hitler eyed the cup as he li
fted it from the table. I was certain he would reconsider drinking from it, considering his phobia about germs.
The faint smell of bitter almonds wafted toward me from the steaming tea. I screamed and knocked the cup to the floor. It crashed on the rug and Eva’s dogs bolted toward it.
“Magda, what’s come over you?” Karl shouted.
“Keep the dogs away!” I lunged for the cup. “The tea has been poisoned.”
A collective gasp filled the room, not the least of which came from the valet who’d served the tea and now looked upon me with wide, terrified eyes. The man on the couch spit out his tea and the others gulped and put their cups down. I took out my handkerchief and began to blot up the liquid. Eva collared the Scotties and dragged them back to her chair.
Hitler rose like a stern judge before a courtroom and said calmly, “Don’t touch the cup.” He looked over my shoulder. “Don’t ruin your dress. How did you know?”
I rose, expecting to see anger and hatred in his gaze, but his eyes were quiet and studied, as if he could read my thoughts. “I smelled cyanide. Cook says it’s a genetic trait.”
“I’m afraid we need to call for more tea,” Hitler said, “but first I’ll summon security.” I knew what that meant. The SS Colonel would be here soon to question all of us. “It seems someone is trying to poison me. I would have suspected Otto, but he’s no longer here.”
The woman who had examined my ring cried out, “For God’s sake, smell the teapot. We all drank from it.”
I lifted the pot and took off the lid. There was no smell, but I took several sniffs until I could be sure they were satisfied of my attention to duty. “I smell nothing.” The ladies sank back on the couch in relief.
“Who handled the tea?” Karl asked the valet.
The young man quaked before Karl’s question. “Only me, sir,” he said. “I swear no one touched the drink except me. It was tasted by one of the girls in the kitchen.”
“Then there can only be one answer,” Karl said. “The cup was laced with cyanide. Is this the cup you planned to serve to the Führer?” He pointed to it, still on the floor.
“No, sir, I paid no attention to the cups and saucers. I swear it.”
“Someone in the kitchen is responsible,” Hitler said. “Let me talk to the Colonel.” He pointed to the valet. “He should start with you.”
“I will get him, Führer,” Karl offered, and left the room.
I returned to my chair and we all sat looking at one another as the room grew still. Hitler stared into the fire as if nothing had happened. No one dared speak a word.
A few minutes later, Karl appeared with the Colonel and a few of his officers. They spread out across the room. One of them took the valet away for questioning. They also took the cup and my soaked handkerchief, which I’d left near it.
Eva tried to smile and be happy, but fear shone through her face. Hitler was not so concerned. “Once again, providence has saved me,” he said to Eva. “How many times have I told you that my destiny shall be fulfilled? The evening is not ruined. We shall just begin again.” Hitler instructed the Colonel to wait until tea was over; then he could question everyone in the room as he pleased. “In the meantime, I shall order another pot of tea and coffee and a plate of fresh desserts.” He turned in his chair and looked me in the eye. “And Magda shall taste them for us before we begin.”
* * *
The fresh food and drink were not poisoned, but the fact that I had nothing to do with the attempt shook me. With every sip and taste I wondered whether it would be my last. I took more care in tasting than I had in months. The tension in the room forced me to admit that I had become lax in my job.
Hitler, Eva and the other guests stared at me as I tasted the new plates brought out of the kitchen. They followed each bite with eyes like cats following a bird. I wondered who could have poisoned the cup. Karl must have believed I had done it, but he was wrong.
When the conversation resumed, Hitler droned on about Wagner’s music until Eva gave him a cold, hard stare. He reluctantly stopped his lecture and the room drifted into silence. Eva attempted to steer our banter toward photography, the hobby she loved the most, but the other guests seemed to know or care little about it.
I had no appetite as the evening progressed. Hitler even fell asleep in his chair for a time, and Eva hoarsely whispered to her guests, “I’ve had enough. I’m sorry this has been so disappointing.” She got up and walked to the door. The SS Colonel stood stiffly outside waiting for us. The commotion awakened Hitler and he proclaimed the tea at an end. His dinnertime, followed by another late night conference, was approaching, so he excused himself. Before he did so, he took my right hand—the hand with the ring—and kissed it. “Thank you for saving my life,” he said. “I shall remember this night and your service to the Führer.”
I wanted to wipe his kiss from my hand, but I knew that his memory of this evening would serve me later in some capacity. However, I found his gesture of affection revolting. It turned my stomach.
The other guests, Karl and I were left in the Great Hall. Karl had heard my exchange with Hitler and looked at me approvingly.
I turned away from the door so the Colonel could not see my face. “I had nothing to do with it,” I whispered to Karl. “You must take the ring, put it somewhere the Colonel will not suspect.” Under the pretext of holding hands, Karl slipped it off my finger. As we walked toward the door, I could tell he was frantically trying to figure out who had poisoned the cup and what to do with the ring.
The Colonel stopped me at the door and asked Karl to wait outside. Eva and her guests were told they would be called upon later, or in the morning. I knew Eva would never be questioned.
Two SS men followed the Colonel. I sat in the chair I’d been in all evening. The Colonel, in his gray uniform, sat on the couch across from me. One of the officers carried a pad to take down my words and sat near the table so he could write. The other stood nearby passively looking on. “Find me an ashtray,” the Colonel said to the officer who stood. The man nodded and then left.
The Colonel’s cruel eyes traveled over me. Chills raced over my skin under his fierce gaze. I hid my fear as best I could. He arched an eyebrow and sank back against the cushions. He did not look as small on the large couch as Eva’s guests.
“You seem to attract trouble,” the Colonel said. The other officer scribbled on his paper.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Tonight you saved the Führer’s life, but this is not the first time you’ve encountered poisons.” The other officer returned with an ashtray and stood by his superior. The Colonel withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lit up. He threw the match into the ashtray and exhaled a long stream of smoke.
“The Führer does not like his officers to smoke,” I said.
The Colonel smiled with smug conviction. “You’re very assured for a servant.”
I found his insult childish. “It’s true I’m in service to the Führer. If you wish to classify my position as a servant to the Führer that is your concern.”
He motioned to the officer who was writing. The man withdrew a file from his clipboard and handed it to the Colonel. He placed his cigarette in the ashtray and the smoke rose in white circles until it was sucked away in thin streaks by the fire’s draft. He read from the file: “You were dormitory mates with Ursula Thalberg, who attempted to kill the Führer with cyanide; you were sickened by a cook at the Wolf’s Lair as a test of your abilities; you discovered poison in the food at the Wolf’s Lair as it was being prepared for the Führer. That led to the dismissal of the cook who tested you.” He put the file on the table. “And now tonight.” The Colonel blinked and took another puff on his cigarette. The SS officer who was writing looked at me for my reply.
I chose to focus on the Colonel. “You’re reciting nothing but the hazards of my job. I’m very good at what I do. Ask Cook.”
“Do you have access to poisons?”
I lea
ned forward and addressed him squarely. “Everyone in the kitchen has access to poisons, or knows where they are. If you are implicating me, you might as well arrest the whole kitchen staff.”
He laughed. “Do not tempt me, Fräulein. Sometimes nothing clears the air like a good housecleaning.” He pointed to me. “Please stand up.”
I was shocked by his order. “Why?”
“Do it.”
I shrugged and stood as the three men in the room watched me like I was a prisoner ready to be stripped. Another SS officer, this one a woman, entered the door to the Great Hall. She seemed somewhat familiar, but I had not met her. After all, the Führer was surrounded by nearly two thousand people at his various headquarters. She circled me, stopped and stood stiffly in front of me. Her eyes were unmoving; no hint of emotion showed in her face.
“Search her,” the Colonel ordered.
The woman came forward without a word and placed her hands on my shoulders and then moved her fingers down to my breasts. She squeezed them through the fabric and then moved her hands lower, across my genitals, until she finished her job at my shoes. She ordered me to take them off and then turned me around and completed a similar hand search down my back. She even examined my Party pin. I was glad I had given the poison ring to Karl, but I worried whether he was able to hide it in time.
“Nothing,” the woman said brusquely after she had completed her task.
I turned to the Colonel, my cheeks flushed with anger. “See? You shouldn’t have been concerned about me.”
“I am not convinced.” He took a final puff on his cigarette and then rubbed it out in the ashtray. “Be aware that you and the kitchen staff are being watched. We will find the perpetrator of these crimes.” He pointed a thin finger at me. “The criminal will be punished.”
“May I leave now?” I said, still angered by his implication. “I’m tasting the Führer’s dinner. I have work to do.”
His mouth curled into a haughty smirk. “Go about your business. I have the Reich’s business to conduct.”
The Taster Page 17
