by Renee Duke
Good thing the Brase family treasures had already been taken to the guesthouse, Dane reflected. But will there be any Brases left to claim them after the war?
A radio, too, had been rescued, snatched up by Vester as they fled. Not a Volksempfänger, the low-price, limited range, ‘people’s radio’ put out so poorer people could afford to listen to Nazi broadcasts, but a short wave radio capable of picking up stations in other countries. After they had eaten, Vester fiddled with it and tuned into a BBC broadcast featuring a speech by the British Prime Minister. Several of the children’s relatives were of the opinion that Winston Churchill hadn’t been quite as great a statesman as history later claimed, but had never disputed his ability to come up with stirring speeches.
This was one of his best.
“…we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender, and—”
The rest was lost to static. Though Paige and the boys had heard it before, this fragment of the original broadcast moved them deeply. Moved them because they now knew exactly what their great-grandfather and others had been fighting. And why they had to.
“They mean it,” said Dane. “They won’t surrender.” He paused, and with new understanding added, “They won’t give up any more than you guys will.”
“But you must,” said Rosa.
Paige blinked. “Come again?”
“All day you have talked, and we have listened, but what happens now, happens.”
She stood up. Quietly, the rest of the Brases did, too, and, one by one, drifted off into the forest.
Dane pulled out the medallion. “It agrees, Paige. It’s tingling. It’s time for us to go. Most of the Reitzels are in the States, we saved the eagle, and at least some of the Brases are going to try to make it to England. We don’t have any control over whether they do or not. Or what Marta does from here on in.”
He held the medallion out so the other two could feel it.
Paige gave a sigh, a heavy sigh of both resignation and regret.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”
When they materialized back in the upstairs hall of the guesthouse, all was quiet. They got back to their rooms without disturbing anyone, but slept only fitfully themselves.
They arose a few hours later and went down for breakfast.
“Are we still heading for Austria tomorrow?” Paige asked her father. “With Uncle Trevor in hospital, we thought you might not want to. We don’t mind giving up the ski trip. We’d rather stay and make sure he’s all right.”
Mr. Marchand shook his head. “He’d want us to go as planned. Besides, your mother’s already volunteered to stay.” He grinned. “Great way to escape that crisp, and cold, mountain air.”
“I’m concerned for my cousin,” Mrs. Marchand said primly.
“His wife’s flying in later today.”
“We’ll be company for each other,” said Mrs. Marchand.
A phone call to the hospital confirmed that Uncle Trevor’s surgery had gone well and he could receive visitors. Since it was unlikely a lot of relatives would be allowed to descend on a recuperating patient at once, it was decided that visits should take the form of alternating small groups that stayed only a short while. Visiting hours were not until the afternoon, however, so Mr. Marchand had no qualms about getting the children to do ‘one last thing’ for his docudrama before he took them to see Uncle Trevor; a couple of minor scenes for which Jack’s ‘new’ shirt and vest did, fortunately, pass muster.
When they did get to the hospital, they found Uncle Trevor in his usual good spirits, but looking a little pale and weary.
“We should have kept some of Old Zigana’s salve,” Jack said after Mr. Marchand went off to get a cup of coffee. “It fixed me up a treat.”
“Yes, I’ll have to make do with modern medicine.” Uncle Trevor gave a small sigh. “Crutches, too. Wasn’t expecting Father Christmas to bring me those. Though after my first experience with the medallion, I should have known I’d meet with some form of violence. The medallion has it in for me.”
“Not the medallion,” said Dane. “Khatcheres. He had to be the one responsible for getting that book to Titus Herne, thus setting him on our trail and getting his descendants into the family.”
“Since Professor Azarian’s father found it here after the war, I guess Uncle Jasper wasn’t able to retrieve it,” said Paige. “Which is probably just as well. I expect it was chock full of helpful hints for the hunter line.”
“I’m sure it was, but they didn’t get it, and since the suitcase containing all those nice incriminating photographs came along for the ride, they aren’t likely to cause us any more trouble,” said Uncle Trevor. “I saw it lying in the snow while I was busy bleeding.”
“So did Mum and Aunt Augusta,” said Dane. “They wondered where it came from. I told them to ask you. What are you going to tell them?”
“That I banged my head falling to the ground and can’t remember,” Uncle Trevor replied promptly.
“Good one,” said Jack.
“Thank you. I talked to Dad on the phone last night, after the anaesthetic wore off, and again less than an hour ago. He and Uncle Avery are quite chuffed about those photos. Uncle Avery set off for the Isle of Wight first thing this morning and has already had a little chat with Percy and Willoughby. Told them all about an old thirties-era camera he and Dad found whilst poking about in one of Grantie’s auxiliary attics. Said it had film in it, and being historians, they were curious as to what gems it might contain. They therefore had it processed and were just, oh, so surprised to see all those nice, clear photos of Percy consorting with prominent Nazis. Something he’d always vehemently denied. With no concrete proof, the Wolverton-Herne business empire flourished, but would it, Uncle Avery conjectured, go on doing so if it became known that such accusations were true? As for the social and political drawbacks to being a former Nazi agent, or the son, or grandson, of a Nazi agent, well, he left that to Willoughby’s imagination. He then assured them there was really no reason for any of that to come to light—provided certain people kept their hands off a certain object, and made no further attempts to acquire it or do its current custodians any sort of harm. He must have made himself clear, because Bentley told me his grandfather wants him to return home with Penelope as soon as she’s fit to travel.”
Paige’s eyebrows lifted. “Aren’t you going to press charges against her?”
“No. She’s been rendered harmless. Besides, the police can’t find the gun. Which is just as well, since a bullet from it wouldn’t match the one taken out of me.”
“How come they can’t find it? I thought Cousin Ophelia had it.”
“She did. But she was in earlier and…let’s see…what did she say? Oh, yes, she said she was very much opposed to guns, and—remember that bridge we had to go over to get to the Deutsches Museum?—well, she said, whilst going back across it, she was horrified to find she still had the gun in her pocket. Feeling tainted by its very presence, and convinced that some symbolic gesture would allow all concerned to feel ‘cleansed’, she dropped it in the Isar.”
“That must have annoyed the cops,” said Paige. “I’m surprised she hasn’t been charged—with disposing of evidence.”
“Who?” asked her father, coming in with two cups of coffee and three soft drinks.
“Cousin Ophelia. She threw Penelope’s gun in the river.”
“I know,” said Mr. Marchand. “I went with her to tell the police about it. After they listened to her inane attempts to justify herself, they weren’t about to charge her. They just wanted me to get her out of there. They figure she’s as deranged as Penelope. I agree, but we’re going to spend the rest of the afternoon with her anyway. The grandmother of one of her German friends has agreed to let me film her talking about her pre-war days. Bev’s going to take me to her, and since I’ve already got you with me, you might as w
ell come along.”
They met Cousin Ophelia and a cameraman outside the hospital and took a taxi to a house on the outskirts of the city. Cousin Ophelia’s friend, Mitzi Reinhardt, opened the door to them and introduced them to her mother, Hannelore Oppenheimer.
“Mutti has just got up from a nap and is still in her room,” said Frau Oppenheimer. “I will take the children to see her while you set up your cameras, Herr Marchand.”
She took them to a room in which a thin, white-haired, old woman sat in a chair with a rug over her knees.
“Visitors, Mutti,” she said, and then left them with her.
At first, the old woman did not say anything, just let her gaze rest upon them.
Then she smiled. “So, once again, we meet.” She laughed softly. “Do you not recognize me? Ah, but, why would you? How can the children who do not age recognize someone who has?”
“Marta!” all three said together.
“Ja, I am Marta. An unhappy girl who believed a great many lies and learned too late that she should have listened to those who loved her instead of those who sought to use her.”
“Too late?” Paige repeated.
“My childhood and adolescence forfeited to the ideology of madmen. For that is what many of the nation’s leaders were. Madmen. Madmen I willingly served.”
“For how long?” asked Paige. “You…you didn’t marry Kurt Keppler, did you?”
“I would have. It was my duty, and for a long while, I was still inclined to do my duty. But it was not necessary for girls to marry in order to produce Aryan children. Kurt did not want to actually marry me. He merely fathered my child. A boy born after Kurt and several others had been killed. Including his brother Viktor and my cousin Emil. A good boy. I called him Ernst, for my grandfather, who so kindly took us in and cared for us. He is much like my grandfather. He lives in Heidelberg, but comes often to see me.”
“So your daughter, Frau Oppenheimer, isn’t Kurt’s daughter,” said Dane.
Marta shook her head. “I married her father a few months before the war ended. Such a difficult time. Our country threatened from all sides and hurtling towards ruin. Everything we had believed in shown to be false. Or, rather, everything I had believed in. Anton was never a child of Hitler. Not in his heart. He served as he was told, but it was he who helped me see how wrong it all was. I was so lucky to have him think me worthy of his love. As was little Ernst. Anton was as devoted a father to him as he was to our daughter.”
“You called her Hannelore. After your sister,” said Paige.
“It seemed the least I could do for one of whom I was so unjustly ashamed. It made her very happy to have a namesake. When my grandfather finally went to America, the children and I went also, to visit Hani and the rest of my family. My family, who should have shunned me but did not.”
“How had they got on?” Dane asked.
“Very well. They experienced little wartime animosity. Onkel Hardy had lived there for a long time and was well thought of. Hani went to the school he had told us of and flourished there. So did little Barti Tresler, whose parents followed mine just before war was declared. Neither Hani nor Barti made a great age—people with their condition didn’t back then—but at least they were allowed to live out the lives I once thought they had no right to.”
“I’ve always wondered…,” Paige said slowly, “…that day at Neuschwanstein…did you push Hani off the path?”
“Nein! She slipped. Though she might not have if I had not thrown that bracelet at her. Even so, once she had fallen, I did think I should perhaps not try to get her back up.”
“So, if Nicko hadn’t been nearby…and we hadn’t happened along …?”
“I do not know,” Marta replied honestly.
“Did you ever see Nicko after the war? Or hear what happened to him, or any of the Brases?” Jack asked, somewhat hesitantly, not sure he wanted to know.
“I made it my business to find out. I owed them that after how I treated them.” Marta regarded them somberly. “For years I learned nothing. Then, one day, when Anton and I were picnicking in the countryside with our children, we heard music—harmonica music—and saw a bear dancing. Dancing with it was young woman. Rosa would have been about twenty-five then, but she looked older. Auschwitz aged people.”
“Auschwitz!” Paige gasped.
“She survived it. Barely. As did her mother. We meet sometimes and talk. If I showed little surprise at seeing you again, it is because she told me I would. And that you would still be as I remembered you.” She shook her head. “I am now too old to be concerned with the strangeness of that.”
“What happened to the rest of the Brases?” Dane inquired.
“Delo and the English uncle tried to smuggle some into England. Only Delo got there. The uncle and the twin sisters were caught in a general Gypsy roundup in France. The girls became victims of Auschwitz, but the uncle somehow escaped and joined the French resistance. Unfortunately, he was killed on one of their missions.”
“What about Nadya and Brosi? Jimmy was supposed to take them, too,” said Paige.
“Just before the roundup, he found them a temporary hiding place with a French family. What happened to them is not known, though Rosa has always sensed that they were all right. Perhaps the family kept them and raised them as their own. But many people were displaced after the war. Finding a specific family was not easy. Delo did try, but had never been told their name. He was a spy for the British during the war. Quite a good one, I believe.”
“Some of the others were in the German resistance,” said Dane. “Any idea what happened to them?”
“Like Jimmy, Drogo was killed on a mission. His father, Poldi, was visiting Rosa and her parents when the Gestapo raided the farm where they were staying. All were arrested, and the men were shot, along with those who sheltered them. The uncle with the bear was not with them that day and was never taken. He, the bear, and the old woman stayed safely hidden in the forest the whole of the war.”
Was Bruna their spirit protector? Dane wondered, but aloud said, “And Nicko?”
“Nicko. The boy I so much resented. Until the Berlin wall came down, I did not know what became of him. When the war ended, he and Vester were in a part of Germany that fell under Russian control. He was unable to return to Munich until Germany became whole again and East Germans were free to go where they wished. By then, Vester had passed on, and only Rosa and his mother were still here. And now there is only Rosa. Only Rosa left who knew the people I knew. Including my Anton.” Marta smiled reminiscently. “She liked Anton.”
“So did we,” said Paige. “Assuming you’re talking about the Anton we met. Anton Adler?”
Marta nodded. “He was so good to me. He and the golden feather helped me overcome the past.”
“Golden feather?” Dane queried.
“A feather from the eagle. Anton found it on the floor after you had gone and gave it to me. In later years, I found that holding it could give me comfort when guilt and bad memories overwhelmed me. I have it still. And still it looks perfect. As though Anton picked it up yesterday instead of so many years ago.”
Rising stiffly, she went over to a bureau and took a small box out of a drawer. Crowding round her to look at it, the children could see she was right. The feather was in excellent condition.
Frau Oppenheimer came in at that point and told her mother that Mr. Marchand was ready to film her.
Later, back at the guesthouse, Dane’s thoughts returned to the feather.
“Maybe the Arcanus Piece transferred some of its healing power to every part of the eagle, including feathers that might have fallen out beforehand, so that one of them could be used to help Marta.”
“Why would it do that?” Paige asked.
“Because we couldn’t. She was too indoctrinated for us to change her outlook. It took Anton to do that. But I’m sure the feather had something to do with it, too.”
“Could have, I suppose,” said Paige. “Did you put
the Arcanus Piece back in the clock with the other Pieces?”
“Not yet. Cousin Bentley’s too preoccupied with Penelope to come snooping around, and since we’re leaving tomorrow, I think we should just pack them all up now.”
The Bauers were having their turn visiting with Uncle Trevor, so the children didn’t have to worry about Zach coming into the boys’ room while they were getting the other Keeper Pieces out of the clock.
Dane handed them out to Paige one by one so she could put them in her jewellery box.
“Wait,” he said when she started to close it. “There’s something else in here.” Reaching further up, he pulled out the Keeper Belt, folded over and tied with a neckerchief.
Dane handed the belt to Paige, but kept a note written and signed by Delo.
He read it out. “‘Rosa says we must leave this, and Rosa knows such things.’”
“I was wondering how the Keeper Belt was going to come to us,” said Paige, making room in the box for it.
“So was I,” said Jack. “But we knew it had to. One of Aurea-Rose’s rhymes said so.
“‘When the guides all come to rest,
And with the final seekers nest,
The lost will all be back in place,
And did their proper paths embrace.
The key will then reach for its kind,
And the waiting rose tree find.’”
He paused. “Which has to mean that, the next time we use the medallion, it’s going to take us to Varteni.”
The End
Books by Renee Duke from Books We Love
The Time Rose Series
Book 1: The Disappearing Rose
Book 2: The Mud Rose
Book 3: The Spirit Rose
Book 4: The Tangled Rose
Side Trip – Travelers Into Alien Space
Historical Background
At the end of World War One, the victorious Allies made Germany sign a peace treaty that took away some of its territory, drastically reduced its military, and made it financially responsible for all damage caused by the war.
