by P. G. Glynn
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The snow’s significance had been lost on Marie initially. She was accustomed to British snowfalls, not the sort that started and never stopped. So Otto’s weather bulletin had seemed somewhat inappropriate and pointless. She had even taken it to be a device to detract attention from the matter in hand. And she had been glad to retreat to the Rosenzimmer where she had told Otto exactly what she thought of him for leaving all the talking to her. It was only much later, when the whole family seemed to be smugly assuming she had just been having a tantrum and when the snow was several feet deep, that she realised it was here for the whole winter … virtually trapping her in Schloss Berger.
Oh, she could still travel of course, but the journey would have added difficulties … with added risk. And Otto had known all along about being snowed in. He had known that given sufficient delaying tactics it was probable Marie would be here for the birth of her baby. How she had hated him for his cunning …how she still hated him!
Her hatred gnawed at her from within. Marie disliked these feelings. And she deeply disliked having to be here when she wanted to be elsewhere. It was horrible to have no control over where she was, nor over whom she was with. Why hadn’t she listened to Uncle John when he told her that things changed after marriage? If only she had, she would never have married a man who made empty promises and she would not now be in Bohemia among a bunch of weird foreigners.
Oh, to be back in London, living her old life and being on-stage with Charles each night! Wanting this more than she had ever wanted anything Marie suddenly started feeling feverish. Lying wakefully beside a sleeping Otto in the early hours one morning, seemingly aeons on from discovering what a skunk he was, she felt after a bit as if her blood were boiling and as if water were pouring from her. This was more than perspiration: it was surely floodwater. Whatever was wrong? Believing the whole bed to be wet and deciding to get out of it, Marie tried to move her legs … but there was no moving them. Panicking, she attempted to lift an arm - which proved an impossible feat. She then did her best to turn her head. Out of the question to turn it more than minimally in any direction! Terrified of finding she couldn’t speak, either, Marie opened her mouth and released an ear-piercing scream.
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While Mama Berger was worried about Marie she was even more worried about the baby. But Doctor Novak was reassuring, telling her that had the illness struck within the first three months of pregnancy the foetus would have been at risk whereas with Marie starting her fifth month there was little, if any, danger. Of course being told there was no cause for alarm did not stop one being alarmed … and regretting the shopping trip to Arnau, which must have been where Marie contracted the disease.
Not that regrets were of any use … and naturally the baby’s birth in Schloss Berger was now guaranteed. Marta had been shocked almost beyond speech to hear that Marie’s intention was to have her baby somewhere other than here. Had God stepped in to ensure that Otto’s son or daughter was born in Bohemia? It was said that He moved mysteriously and Marta had often had evidence that He did. But she would never have wished for Marie to suffer an attack of infantile paralysis.
This being a highly infectious notifiable disease, patients needed to be kept in isolation and Theodor Novak had wanted Marie admitted to hospital in Arnau, eight miles away, where they were treating three other cases. Marta had given him short shrift, though, insisting that Marie be isolated here in the castle where Mama herself would nurse her night and day. Which she was doing diligently, feeling huge sympathy for the immobilised Marie – whose central nervous system had been attacked, producing the paralysis – and a burning determination to restore her to full health.
She had great faith in the healing properties of goose fat and massaged it in large quantities into Marie’s skin. After massaging and applying a thick surface coating Mama used long strips of sheeting to bind each limb and Marie’s whole trunk until she closely resembled an Egyptian mummy. Then, covering her with two feather-filled Perinas, she ensured that servants kept the chimney oven fed with sufficient wood to give maximum heat. In that hothouse atmosphere, coupled with her fever, Marie sweated as Nature intended, her open pores absorbing the fat that in turn lubricated her limbs. The combination of fat and perspiration meant that the ‘bandages’ and bedclothes all needed changing at least three times a day but Mama never complained. Inbetween she mixed herbal cocktails for Marie that would help her heal from within as well as from without. While healing she slept fitfully.
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Marie had found that it was not far to London. She could go there on a whim and effortlessly be with Nell in her den. How releasing this discovery and how happily she would leave the den to head for the Tavistock and feel Charles’s arms around her again!
Heading there, her heart singing, she invariably reached Charing Cross Road – just a stone’s throw from him – only to have the voice summon her back. Why, oh why, did it always start summoning then? Whose voice was it? How could she make it stop?
“When you are your old self again we shall go up into the mountains. There, in our log cabin, you will breathe pure air and see snow stretching forever. You might, if you’re lucky, even see Ruebezahl – one of the giants after whom the mountains were named. He sometimes shows himself to those who are suffering. But never does he come as Ruebezahl. He will be disguised as a prince or a peasant or a huntsman so it is essential to look through the disguise to the giant, who is very shy. One day I’ll tell you why he’s known as Ruebezahl, which means Turnip Count in your language. It’s a strange name, don’t you think? We have many things in store for you once you are better. Bohemia’s a beautiful country and there’s so much of it for you to discover with your baby. You’ve yet to explore the Berger lands which extend as far from the castle as the eye can see and still farther. You’ve yet to eat oranges picked from our own hothouse trees and to taste asparagus fresh from the beds that der kurze Peppi tends.
Soon after the hawthorn blooms our meadows are bright with Elfenschuhe, which are pink and white or dark blue. As for the Katzenpfoetchen that grow in clearings in the woods – these are a delight to find because they are such charming little flowers, shaped like a cat’s paw and coloured pink or white. Then there are the Augentrost, which you would know as eye-bright, and back again in the meadows are the marguerites and the Storchschnabel, which is blue with a point like a stork’s bill at the back of it. Wild strawberries grow in the clearings and we harvest raspberries on some of our sunnier slopes although we need to remember to be on our guard against the snakes that also like to bask in the sunshine.
We have forests that are dark and mysterious because of the height of the trees and, beyond these, mossy glades where tasty yellow chanterelles grow beneath smaller fir trees. Oh, and we have caves, along with a pumpernickel house for children to play in! Your child will play where his father once played. And periodically, down by the sulphur springs, we hold a Schweineschlacht with feasting from the meat of two pigs and with everyone wearing national costume when we invite the whole village in to eat, drink and dance. These are colourful occasions that last for hours and linger on in the memory for months afterwards. You will dance at the next Schweineschlacht.”
It was Mama’s voice stopping Marie being with Charles. She now knew whose voice it was because she had watched as Mama washed and massaged and bandaged her. She had watched from afar and had now drifted to where it was dark. The darkness was not threatening and was velvety soft. This was a womb-like spot.
Was she her own baby, waiting to be born? She must be, because she could suddenly see a light so bright that it was hurting her eyes. Marie recognised the light of life … the life that awaited her on the other side. If she strove and strove she would find how to live in the light instead of such darkness. Marie started striving toward that golden sunshine …
Someone was there, at the end of her journey, waiting for her. Was it Charles? Astonished, she saw that it was Pa.
“M
arie, darling,” he said to her, a beatific smile illuminating his beloved features, “our reunion is premature. You still have work to do back there – important work, some involving your own little girl, which has to be accomplished before you can join me here. Do it, my precious daughter, and I’ll never be far from you. When the task seems hard I’ll be at your shoulder and you’ll feel me near, as you have in the past. If you listen to the voice within you will invariably be guided and comforted. There is comfort in accomplishment and in learning the lessons we’re put on earth to learn. Remember that once we’ve learned, our heart’s wish is granted. Remembering, and strengthened by our encounter go back to climb your mountains. They are high but truly they can be climbed. Only when you have climbed them and lived your life to its appointed end will you qualify for death. Live wisely, my child, and love well!” He kissed her brow, which became cooler. Then Pa left her.
It was the hour before dawn and her condition had been critical. Now the doctor, whom Mama had summoned during the night to Marie’s bedside, nodded knowingly and told his old friend Marta: “You and your unorthodoxy have achieved a miracle. She has turned the corner. It won’t surprise me if, thanks to the herbs and the fat and the chatter, she is soon walking … perhaps, even, without any deformity.”
27
The baby was learning to walk. It felt like being a baby, having legs so wobbly that they buckled with each step – but at least they were still the same length. She was lucky to have suffered no muscular atrophy.
Marie did not feel lucky. She felt weak and listless and it had been a struggle to get through Christmas. But oddly she felt more at home here than she did before her illness. It was almost as if she had lived in Schloss Berger for years … as if she knew where to find storksbills and elfinshoes or how to scoop crayfish from a sparkling brook … as if she had known in advance that Krampus would bring gifts on Christmas Eve and that he was the devil who filled children’s shoes with ashes if they had been bad and presents if they had been good. She had seen previously – hadn’t she? – the magnificent tree in the grand salon beneath which were parcels for all the servants as well as for the family. And Silvester had come as no surprise to her, with half Herrlichbach invited to a party at the castle and with the three Berger brothers dressed up as chimney sweeps to see in the New Year.
They had moved through time to 1920 and Marie was trying not to think back to 1919. It was surely a century ago that she had lived in London and loved Charles Brodie. Not that her love for him was in the past tense but her life had changed so much that he seemed to have receded to a place where she could not quite reach him. While she was paralysed he had seemed closer somehow than he seemed now … and Pa had been close too.
Marie knew that her meeting with Pa had not been a dream. Dreams faded with awakening whereas that encounter remained as fresh as ever and she remembered every word he had said to her. She especially remembered his telling her that people were put on earth to learn lessons and that a heart’s wish was granted after these had been learned. And he had told her to go back and climb her mountains. So where was she when he spoke … where exactly had she come back from? Marie had an idea that she had glimpsed heaven and now knew that she would be happy to go there when her earthly toil was over. Before going, though, she must learn her lessons well so that she could be held in Charles’s arms again.
The problem lay in knowing what altogether she was supposed to learn from her challenges. Marie supposed that knowledge would come through listening to the voice within. Would she hear it and, if she did, would she heed it? Hard to say. She hoped she would and thus avoid making too many mistakes.
Charles would return to her in a sense through the birth of their baby. Marie prayed that the paralysis would not have affected her little girl and that she would be born perfect. Strange that Charles had wanted a daughter and that Lenka assumed Marie was carrying a girl, which Pa had now confirmed! Where this baby was concerned Lenka was so proprietorial that it was a wonder Marie had kept from her the fact that Otto was not the father. But she was keeping her secret out of deference to Mama and, while keeping it, saw the irony of the Bergers not knowing that the baby they awaited so eagerly was a Brodie.
Being heavily pregnant was no help with the walking process. As Marie forced one foot in front of the other to cross the Rosenzimmer she could not see her feet over her swollen belly. But through the window she could see across to the snowy mountain peaks … and could see from the height of the trees locally that the snow was very, very deep. Not only had their heights changed but also their shapes, which were strange and in some cases inspirational. The firs especially were so bowed and blanketed with snow that they had taken on identities, becoming creatures from legend – leviathans, hobgoblins, or the very giants said to inhabit this area. It was another world, out there – a white world unlike any Marie had seen before – and the air was so still that she had a sense of timelessness, almost as if there was only now and no other existence. She had left Marie Howard in some different dimension and was cocooned in an exile far from her choosing.
“See the Schneekoppe?” Otto queried, pointing to the highest peak after helping her into a chair. “We’ll soon be travelling to our cabin there and I guarantee that the mountain air will quickly have you feeling stronger. You might not feel strong enough to ski but I’m sure we’ll think up some other activities.”
“In bed?” Marie said, looking up at him as he perched on the arm of her chair and asking: “Can’t you see that when I’m in bed all I want and need is sleep?”
“I can,” he agreed, “but what of my needs, Liebchen? A man can only stand so much celibacy before he … ”
“ … looks to his sister-in-law for his fun? My legs might be weak, Otto, but my eyes haven’t been and I’ve seen you eying Lenka hungrily.”
“You’ve seen no such thing!”
“Haven’t I? I’m not blind … and perhaps more importantly nor is Ludwig. He too will have seen the looks passing between you two and it’s a wonder to me he hasn’t stepped in already with some discouragement. Don’t say I didn’t warn you if one day he chops your head off.”
“In that event,” Otto said, “I wouldn’t be in much shape to comment. Do I detect a note of jealousy?”
“You’d like to, I’m fully aware – and so would she! You both behave like children, teasing each other and trying to tease Ludwig and me. I can’t think why you didn’t marry Lenka while you had the chance, in Vienna, instead of leaving her there and coming to London to drag me off to the altar. It would have been better all round if you two had got together then, instead of involving me and your brother in your antics.”
“You don’t mean that, Marie – you can’t mean it!”
“I can’t?” she laughed mockingly. “I’m married to a man who brought me here under false pretences, taking me away from everything and everyone I love and repeatedly refusing to respect my wishes, yet he expects me to feel jealous when he makes sheep’s eyes at his brother’s wife. Grow up Otto, do, before I totally despair of you!”
“You must be feeling better,” he told her. “You haven’t been so spirited since before your illness. I wish I could make you see how much you mean to me and how much I need … this.”
His hand began stroking her thigh. After suffering the strokes for a few moments Marie advised: “Don’t raise your hopes. You know full well what the doctor said. Quite apart from being hugely pregnant I have to build up my strength. Even if I weren’t so weak,” she added gloweringly, “given the size of my bump you’d need to be a mountaineer to come within a mile of me.”
“I am a mountaineer,” he grinned, “which you’ll see once we’re ensconced on the Schneekoppe.”
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They were travelling in two horse-drawn sleighs. Marie and Otto were seated in the first with Mama and Anna, behind Herr Beck and the black horses, while Lenka and Ludwig had accepted with bad grace that they were to travel with Onkel Emil in the second sleigh, beh
ind Herr Raiman and a pair of spirited roans. Rudolf, eager to put in some practice on his harp, had stayed at home.
This was Wenceslas-land and as they travelled Mama explained to Marie how the good king of the Christmas carol had once been a duke of Bohemia as well as its patron saint. He had made peace with Henry I of Germany but had been assassinated by his own brother, Boleslav I, who succeeded him. Having died in 929 at the tender age of twenty-two he lived on in the carol and in the celebration of his Feast on 28 September.
Marie, who was wrapped up well in the fox fur coat and matching hat that Otto had bought her at Spitzers, could clearly picture the Saint and the page and the peasant because these crisp surroundings were so appropriate for them. She was gazing around her and thinking that in October she too would be twenty-two, which was no age to die, when Otto said: “So I’m by no means the first person wanting to kill his brother. I’d half-forgotten that Boleslav killed Wenceslas. I’ll be in good company, won’t I, if one day I succumb to my urge to wipe Ludwig off the face of the earth?”
“You will not!” Mama told him. “So don’t say such dreadful things, even in jest.”
“Who’s jesting?” Otto glanced back at his brother, whose sleigh was not far to the rear, giving him a mock salute. “Even for you, Mama, I can’t pretend less than loathing for him. He must be the most loathsome creature ever to have been born.”
Ludwig saw the salute and said to Lenka: “Look at him, the cretin! If he tries any of his tricks while we’re in the mountains heaven help him. And just look at the outfit Marie is wearing! If Otto had fought the Cossacks, like I did, his wife wouldn’t be wearing such an unpatriotic hat. What a posturing pair they are!”
“Unlike us, they’re in front,” Lenka said, still smarting over Mama’s decision to have the younger brother in her sleigh with her, when this privilege should have been Ludwig’s. “And you’re forgetting that if Otto could have fought he would have. It wasn’t his fault that he was interned in England. Had he fought, I doubt he’d have turned and run from the enemy as you did.”
