By now it was late evening, and they had just completed a very good dinner in the dining car; they were glad to get out of their first-class sleeper and stretch their legs on the platform while the various customs officers pored over their passports. They then went to bed, and so slept through the Ruhr — about which Murdoch was rather pleased, as that troubled industrial district was still in a state of some turmoil. He awoke at two in the morning when the express stopped in Hanover, but dozed off again and slept soundly until the steward knocked on the compartment door at five thirty.
‘Charlottenberg in half an hour, sir,’ he said in perfect English.
Lee was also awake, and they washed and dressed, and raised the blind to watch the suburbs of Berlin rising out of the winter darkness. ‘Did you ever really believe you would one day lead your regiment down the Unter den Linden?’ she asked.
‘Do you know, I think we all did, back in 1914. The illusion didn’t last long.’
The train pulled into Charlottenberg Station precisely at six o’clock, and they were on the platform by six fifteen, where a uniformed chauffeur was awaiting them. ‘General and Lady Mackinder?’ His English was also flawless.
‘You must have gotten up at an unearthly hour to meet this train,’ Lee remarked.
‘It is not so far, milady,’ he said, and opened the doors of the huge Mercedes touring car for them.
Rugs were provided for their feet, and they drove over good roads which were clear, although there was snow to either side, and the ponds they passed were covered in thin ice. They travelled south for just on an hour, then turned off to enter a village. Here there was the occasional icy patch on the road itself, and the chauffeur had to drive carefully. But he knew his stuff, and a few minutes later they left the houses behind and were in a driveway leading up to a very solid-looking four-storeyed mansion.
‘Oh, my,’ Lee said. ‘I had expected a Schloss.’
‘Count von Reger did own a castle, milady. But it is now in Poland.’
‘Oh,’ Lee said, and looked at Murdoch.
‘Just as well we found out now,’ he agreed. ‘I think we have to feel our way here.’
‘You can say that again,’ she said.
The car pulled to a halt before the portico of the house, and was surrounded by barking Alsatian hounds. These were gathered up by the gamekeeper, complete with gaiters and a feathered cap, which pleased Lee. Then they stepped down to face the open doors, and the people who stood there.
There seemed an awful lot of them, and Lee hesitated, until Murdoch came round the car and held her elbow to escort her forward.
‘Murdoch! Major-General Mackinder!’ Paul von Reger descended the shallow steps to greet them, and apart from the warmth of his address, was also smiling, much to Murdoch’s relief. ‘And Lady Mackinder! If you knew how long I have awaited this pleasure. May I call you Lee?’
‘I’d be hurt if you didn’t, Count.’
‘And you shall call me Paul,’ Reger said. Like Murdoch, he wore civilian clothes. But he had cropped his hair again, and put on some of the weight he had lost in the prison hospital. He looked well, and prosperous — but he was acting. He had to be.
‘Margriet,’ Reger was saying. ‘Our guests.’
Margriet von Reger had waited dutifully until her husband summoned her. Now she too came down the steps. Unlike Lee, who was wearing a mink coat over her travelling suit, Margriet was somewhat simply dressed in a skirt and blouse. She still wore her deep yellow hair long, although it was piled on the back of her head in a chignon. This had the effect of increasing her already considerable height, which was clearly a surprise to Lee — Margriet was very nearly as tall as Murdoch, and in her heels stood a good couple of inches above her husband.
Lee had also not been prepared for her face and figure. The slender girl with whom Murdoch had fallen in love had blossomed into a matron of forty-one, but was still tall and straight, if wide-hipped and large-breasted. And the face had changed very little. It was still long, and handsome rather than pretty, a trifle solemn in repose but changing when she smiled, as she was doing now. ‘Murdoch,’ she said, holding his hands and drawing him close for a kiss on each cheek. ‘Every time I hear of you, you have become more famous. And Lee.’ This time the embrace was slightly longer. ‘It is a very great pleasure. Now let us get inside out of this cold.’
Still holding Lee’s hand, she led them up the stairs to the porch, where four girls waited. ‘Some of my brood,’ she explained. ‘Anna is eleven. Helga is twelve. Magda is fourteen. And this little rascal is my youngest, Annaliese. She is nine.’
The girls, all brilliantly blonde like their parents, curtseyed and shook hands. Murdoch was astonished to receive a wink from Annaliese.
‘Why, isn’t that remarkable,’ Lee said. ‘Ours are just about the same ages.’
‘Ah, but I have three more,’ Margriet said, escorting them into a huge, armorial hall. ‘Ernst is sixteen, and at school. So is Margriet junior. She is eighteen. Klaus is at university. He is twenty.’
‘Good heavens,’ Lee commented.
‘And then there is Paul junior,’ Reger said, at her elbow. ‘Oh, yes. Paul...’ Lee looked at Murdoch, flushing as she did so.
‘Lee and I have no secrets from each other,’ Murdoch lied.
‘That is as it should be,’ Reger agreed. ‘Neither do Margriet and I. So...what do you say in English? We can let our hair down. I am sorry Paul is not here to meet you. He is with his regiment, and could not obtain leave for today. But he will be here for the weekend.’
‘Oh, great,’ Lee said. ‘Does he...’ She bit her lip, and looked at the girls, who were clearly bewildered by the conversation — she had already gathered that their English was not that good.
‘No,’ Reger said. ‘Our secrets we keep at this level.’
‘Oh...yes,’ Lee said.
‘Now, I know you will want to make yourselves comfortable,’ Margriet said. ‘Maria will show you to your rooms.’ She nodded in the direction of the waiting housekeeper. ‘And breakfast will be served in half an hour.’
‘We feel such heels,’ Lee confessed. ‘Getting you up at this hour.’
‘But we always rise early,’ Margriet said. ‘Even in winter.’
*
‘This place is quite something,’ Lee remarked in the privacy of their huge bedroom. ‘I thought you said all the Germans were poor.’
‘Not all,’ Murdoch said. ‘In a collapsing economy, land is worth more than gold. Providing you don’t have to sell it, except at your price.’
‘And a housekeeper. We don’t have a housekeeper.’
‘You refused to employ one, remember?’ Murdoch said. ‘Yankee egalitarianism.’
‘Mmm,’ Lee agreed, obviously considering altering that decision. ‘Will we have a housekeeper in India?’
‘I should think that will be essential.’
‘Can we tell them about going to India?’
‘Of course. It’s not a secret. All Reger has to do is pick up a Gazette.’
‘Mmm,’ Lee said again. ‘Did he really try to kill you at Le Cateau?’
‘Well, I led a charge of my dragoons against his uhlans. I suppose we were all trying to kill each other.’
‘It’s difficult to believe. He seems such a nice man.’
‘He isn’t really.’
‘Murdoch! How can you say that! He’s our host.’
‘And I am sure he is going to be charming. But he has a dark side to his character.’
‘Mmm,’ she said again. ‘Does it bother you that he’s father of your son?’
‘Yes. But then, I don’t know for sure that Paul is my son.’
‘I think he is. Murdoch, did you and she, well...’
She was thinking of their own lovemaking, he knew. ‘We had our moments. But none compared to those I’ve had since.’
‘Do you still find her attractive?’
‘Did you come all the way to Germany to be jealous?’
&nb
sp; She grinned, and kissed him. ‘I think she’s very attractive,’ she said. ‘How old would you say she is?’
‘Forty, forty-one. Something like that. I know she was seventeen when I met her, in 1901.’
‘Oh, my,’ Lee said. ‘She’s only four years older than me.’
*
They were overwhelmed with hospitality. Whatever tensions there might still be between Margriet and Reger, none were in evidence for their guests. Or revealed by their children. They seemed to have all the money in the world, judging by the food and wine they served, by Margriet’s gowns for dinner, and by her jewellery. Reger had a fine stable — Murdoch remembered that when they had met in Dublin in the spring of 1914 he had ostensibly been buying horses — and the four of them galloped across the open country behind the house, often accompanied by the girls, when they were home from school.
On the Friday night they drove into Berlin to attend a performance of Tannhäuser at the Opera House, and Murdoch and Lee were amazed by the splendour of the occasion and the clothes of the people. During the interval Reger took Murdoch up to a mountain of a man, whose face reminded him of a sleepy bear, and who wore the uniform of a Field Marshal of the German army, and had a breast covered with twice as many ribbons as Murdoch himself possessed — although he was wearing none tonight as he was in white tie.
‘Field Marshal von Hindenburg,’ Reger explained, and spoke to Hindenburg in German.
The great man gazed at Murdoch, looking him up and down. Then he gave a stiff little bow, clicked his heels, made a remark in German, and moved away.
‘I have a feeling I have just been snubbed,’ Murdoch said, wishing he hadn’t held out his hand.
‘He lives in the past,’ Reger said, with, to Murdoch’s surprise, a good deal of contempt. ‘He said: “A soldier should be in uniform.”’
There were certainly a large number of uniforms on display tonight, for a nation whose army was officially limited to a hundred thousand men by the Treaty of Versailles. Perhaps, Murdoch thought, they are all officers.
‘And you don’t agree with him? I thought Hindenburg was the most revered man in Germany.’
‘He has accomplished some good things. And he may do so again in the future. But Germany will not be rebuilt to its former glory by former men.’ Reger smiled. ‘Perhaps I should not be saying that to a British soldier.’
‘Perhaps you should not,’ Murdoch agreed, remembering his last talk with Churchill.
‘Nonetheless,’ Reger said, ‘I am not afraid to tell you that it is the fervent wish of every German to rise above the humiliation of Versailles.’
‘As it should be,’ Murdoch agreed. ‘But you want to take your time.’
‘Time. Bah. Time is what you make of it. There is someone I would very much like you to meet.’
Murdoch looked around at the milling crowd. ‘Another snub?’
‘This man will not snub you. He likes the English. But he is not here tonight. I will take you to see him, next week.’
‘I’ll look forward to that,’ Murdoch said politely. ‘I think that’s the bell.’
*
‘What did you think of Hindenburg?’ Lee asked that night as they went to bed.
‘Not a lot. But then, he thought even less of me.’
‘I wish you had been in uniform. Then they’d have seen all your medals. The Germans don’t have a Victoria Cross, do they? Or do they regard the Iron Cross as one?’
Not exactly. Or there are an awful lot of genuine heroes in Germany. But they do have an equivalent. It’s called the Blue Max.’
‘What an odd name for a medal.’
‘It’s a nickname, because the ribbon is blue. The correct name is Pour le Merité.’
‘That’s an even odder name, for a German medal. How did it come to be called that?’
‘Do you know, I have absolutely no idea. I imagine it dates back to when the French were the dominant military power in Europe. But like the Iron Cross, it’s not given specifically for heroism, but for military achievement. You could say it’s the exact equivalent of your Medal of Honour. I think Britain is the only country in the world which has a medal limited solely to heroism on the battlefield.’
‘And you have it.’ She hugged him. ‘I am so proud of you, Murdoch. I think Hindenburg is a stupid boor. Come to think of it, I always did. Murdoch! Paul is coming home tomorrow. I’m so nervous. Are you?’
‘Yes,’ Murdoch said.
*
Paul von Reger junior was as tall and slim as his mother. His blue eyes might also have been inherited from his mother. The real indication that he need not be a Reger lay in his hair, which was dark, in complete contrast to both his parents and his sisters — and, presumably, Murdoch thought, to their three absent siblings.
Twenty-two years old, he looked very smart in his grey uniform with the little Iron Cross dangling at the neck. And even more serious than Murdoch remembered him from their last meeting, in 1914. He clicked his heels and saluted the British general, then bowed over Lee’s hand.
‘I am so pleased to meet you, Paul,’ Lee said.
‘It is my pleasure, Lady Mackinder.’ His English was perfect. He faced Murdoch. ‘And to meet you again, sir. Your career has been a triumph.’
‘You say that as though it is over, Paul,’ Margriet remonstrated. ‘General Mackinder is leaving for India soon, to command the troops there.’
‘Well, not all of them,’ Murdoch murmured.
‘Are you to conquer some more of Asia, sir?’ Paul inquired. It was impossible to tell whether he was being naive or sarcastic.
‘Our colonial conquering days are over, thank God. No, I’m being sent there to make sure your Bolshevik neighbours don’t get any ideas in that direction.’
‘Then, sir, I salute you. They are our enemies. The enemies of all mankind.’
Murdoch raised his eyebrows. The young man was peculiarly vehement, his face for a moment almost transfigured.
Paul flushed. ‘We in Germany know where our destiny lies. We know it was a foolish mistake to make war upon England and France. Germany’s future faces east.’
‘Are you sure?’ Murdoch asked. ‘I was under the impression that your Government and the Soviets were getting on very well.’
‘Our Government,’ Paul said contemptuously. ‘A parcel of Jews and financiers. I tell you, sir, they do not represent the true heart of the Fatherland, the true aspirations of our people.’
‘Is that so?’ Murdoch asked. ‘I had supposed Germany was now a democracy, and that the Government was elected by popular majority.’
Lee squeezed his arm. She didn’t want him to quarrel with his son. ‘I think we should all go to Russia, some time,’ she said. ‘And see for ourselves what’s happening there.’
*
‘He’s terribly intense, isn’t he?’ she confided to Murdoch in bed.
‘Yes. And did you notice how Reger never said a word, just stood there and let the boy do the talking?’
‘I thought that was because he had no opinion to offer?’
‘Reger has a great many opinions to offer, my dearest. And so does Paul.’
‘Oh, my. You mean he’s sort of educated Paul himself?’
‘Or had someone else do it for him.’
‘Oh, Murdoch. Are you terribly disappointed?’
‘If I was hoping for anything else I was a fool,’ Murdoch said.
‘Do you want to leave?’
‘Do you?’
‘Well...not really. I find it all rather exciting here. And Margriet is so sweet.’
‘Yes,’ Murdoch said. He would never have used the word sweet to describe Margriet Voorlandt. ‘Then we’ll stay. I am certainly finding it interesting. Besides, Reger has some friend he wants me to meet. That might be interesting too.’
*
They continued their usual activities during the weekend, in which Paul joined, but there was a tension in the atmosphere which had previously been lacking. Murdoch indee
d preferred not to engage the boy in any further discussion — although he would have loved to hear the German point of view on the Battle of Amiens — because Paul was so vehement in every opinion he expressed, Murdoch could never be sure when he was going to explode.
He tackled Margriet instead, as they cantered their horses across the meadows behind the house, letting Paul and his father and Lee gallop ahead. Up to now he had carefully avoided allowing himself to be alone with her. ‘Why does Paul wear no insignia on his uniform?’ he asked.
‘Because he has no insignia,’ she replied. ‘He is a private.’
‘A private?’ He was astounded.
She smiled. ‘Oh, he was an officer in 1918. A first-lieutenant. At sixteen years old. Is that not an achievement? But when the British and French said that Germany must not have more than a hundred thousand soldiers, Paul, and many thousands of young men like him, had the choice of giving up the army or re-enlisting in the ranks. All the privates in Paul’s regiment were once officers.’
‘I see,’ Murdoch said thoughtfully. ‘So, if Germany were ever to be allowed to re-arm, she would have a complete officer corps ready to train her recruits.’
‘I do not know about these things,’ Margriet said. ‘But of course Germany must be allowed to re-arm. The army is the soul of Germany.’ She reined her horse, gazed at him with wide eyes. ‘Should I have said that?’
He had no choice but to rein also. ‘Not to me. I happen to be one of those who believe that German militarism was mainly responsible for the war.’
‘And not arrogant British determination to protect her position as the number one colonial and industrial power in the world, no matter what,’ she said, and then leaned across to lay her gloved hand on top of his. ‘I do not wish to quarrel with you, Murdoch. I would never wish to do that. But these are my people now. I must share their points of view.’
‘Are they your people, Margriet?’
The Command Page 18
