Jasmyn

by Alex Bell

  My hotel room shared an interconnecting door with Ben’s, so when I got back to my room I unlocked my side of it and tapped on his; but there was no answer, so I assumed he wasn’t back yet. In an effort to further conserve my funds I had bought some food in the supermarket underneath Karstadt, and for dinner I made myself a sandwich in the hotel room rather than going out to find a restaurant. I turned the television on to the one English channel and stretched out across the bed, propped on my elbows, munching crisps and trying not to think about the things Adrian Halsbach had said that morning.

  I was still out of synch with the nine-hour time difference between Germany and California so I went to bed early that evening. But, as so often seemed to be the case, I had nightmares instead of dreams. It felt as if I dreamt for hours about a huge, gleaming knight drowning Liam in a vast, silver lake. Ben, Jaxon and Adrian were all there watching on the shoreline but they were laughing - they thought the knight was joking, that he didn’t really mean to kill Liam before their eyes. I knew better, but I was further away on a mountain path. I tried to run towards the lake but it was like moving through treacle and I could have screamed with frustration as I never seemed to get any nearer and I was acutely aware that every second was precious because - before my very eyes - the life was draining out of my husband.

  Twice he managed to bring his head clear of the water, taking in gulping breaths to scream my name before the knight cruelly forced his head back under again. Even then I could hear his voice ringing in my mind. ‘Jasmyn! Jasmyn! ’

  ‘I’m coming!’ I gasped, desperately trying to break into a sprint but quite unable to go beyond a creeping walk.

  Then I saw Liam’s hands - which had been clawing at the knight’s arm - go limp and fall into the lake with a splash. At last the knight released his grip but it was already too late. Liam did not resurface and I knew that he was dead. Drowned at the bottom of the lake. Screaming through my tears I woke myself up with a start and fumbled clumsily for the light by my bed.

  But then I yelled in fright to see Liam, motionless and dripping wet, standing with his back to me at the foot of the bed, staring straight at the wall. The clothes he wore were soaked through and water ran from his hair down the back of his head. Although I couldn’t see his face I knew it was him. But instead of wanting to leap from the bed and throw my arms around him, I found myself shrinking back, not wanting him to turn around and look at me.

  As soon as I became aware of this reluctance, Liam started to turn. I clutched the sheets up to my chin, paralysed by some vague sense of dread. When he faced me at last, I could see that his skin was pale and waxen. I was staring into the face of a dead man - a corpse. He had even started to rot a little. His green eyes were the only thing about him that looked the same but this brought me little comfort, for as they bored into me they were full of pain and fear - an anguished expression that I had never seen on his face when he’d been alive.

  ‘Liam.’ His name slipped from my lips almost subconsciously.

  He opened his mouth and I flinched as a stream of water poured out to soak the carpet. I thought he was going to say my name, but when the torrent of water stopped and he spoke at last, the one word that came out in a hoarse whisper was: ‘Lohengrin! ’

  He took a lurching step towards me and I instinctively raised my arms to protect myself. But then, suddenly, it was not Liam standing before me dripping wet but Ben - his hair plastered to his face just as it had been at the funeral all those months ago. I thought this was part of the dream at first but then I realised that there was light slicing across the bed from the open interconnecting doors and that Ben was wearing a robe rather than clothes.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, looking alarmed as he gazed at me from the foot of the bed. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Why are you wet?’ I asked, still trying to untangle the dream from the reality.

  ‘What? I’ve just had a shower.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, then took a breath and said it more steadily. ‘Yes. Sorry. I just . . . had a nightmare. That’s all.’

  Ben hesitated and then said, ‘About Liam?’

  ‘Yes.’ I tried to smile. ‘I think it was just all those things Adrian said today . . . about the knight almost drowning him.’

  Ben simply nodded, then glanced around the room and took in the remnants of the dinner I’d made. ‘Were you having a picnic?’ he asked mildly.

  ‘I bought some food in Karstadt so I wouldn’t have to eat out.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked, frowning slightly.

  ‘It’s cheaper.’

  ‘Oh. Are you all right now?’

  ‘Yes. Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

  ‘I’ll see you in the morning, then,’ Ben replied. His hand was on the door handle to draw it shut when he paused, staring at the table by my bed. ‘That’s the knight you mentioned,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ I said, twisting my head to follow his gaze. ‘Oh, yes. That’s it.’

  In the dim light I thought I saw the corner of Ben’s mouth twitch. Then he looked at me with one eyebrow raised and said, ‘Why did you keep it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘It got into my suitcase by mistake when I packed for California. I suppose I’m just used to seeing it by my bed now. Ben, if you don’t know what the object that fell out of the sleigh looks like, then how will you know once you’ve found it?’

  ‘I’ll know it when I see it,’ Ben replied quietly. ‘I’m quite sure of that. Goodnight, Jasmyn.’

  Before I could question him any further he disappeared back into his own room, drawing the door closed behind him and plunging my room into darkness once again.

  9

  Lohengrin

  We left for Neuschwanstein the next morning but not before having breakfast at the hotel. Ben said something about getting a bite to eat on the road but I insisted on the hotel because breakfast was included in the price. If we stopped at motorway services en route then I would have to pay again. Ben was an architect earning good money and could no doubt easily afford all this, but Liam and I had never exactly been rich to begin with. So we went down to the little cellar restaurant where cold cheeses and salami had been laid out along with fresh bread, coffee and fruit juice.

  Ben did not look good. There were dark rings beneath his eyes as if he hadn’t slept all night and his skin was pale. I found myself watching him anxiously, feeling that new and unpleasant fear that he might just drop down dead as Liam had done.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked. ‘You look a bit—’

  ‘I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep very well,’ he replied, picking up the coffee pot and pouring black coffee into his cup and then into mine.

  ‘Do you have bad dreams too?’ I asked.

  He seemed to hesitate a bare moment before saying, ‘Yes. It’s understandable given the circumstances.’

  ‘What are yours about?’ I asked.

  ‘The same as yours, I expect. Swans and knights and human bones. Nonsensical nightmares.’

  ‘In the one I had last night,’ I said, ‘Liam said the word Lohengrin to me. Do you know what that means?’

  ‘It’s the legend of the swan knights and the name of the fairy-tale opera Richard Wagner wrote,’ Ben replied. ‘King Ludwig named his castle after it - Neuschwanstein translates as “New Swan Stone”. You’ve probably heard of it at some point and dreamt about it last night because of all this talk about knights and swans.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, trying hard to believe it. ‘I expect that’s it.’

  After breakfast we packed up our things and went to the rented car we’d left parked in the hotel car park. It was a bright, fresh morning with a blue sky and cold, crisp air. Anyone looking at us would probably just assume we were a young couple holidaying together in the Bavarian Alps. I thrust down the familiar ache of longing and tried to ignore the bitter taste at the back of my throat as Ben took my suitcase from me to p
ut in the boot of the car. Because we both had large cases, there was only just enough room for them and he had to struggle a little to get them both in.

  I watched the back of his dark head as he leaned over the boot muttering bad-temperedly to himself as he tried to wedge the cases in, and the unwelcome, resentful thought flashed into my mind that it hardly seemed fair that Liam had died and Ben had lived. After all, Liam had surely been the one who’d enjoyed life more. He hadn’t had any of those worry lines around his eyes. He had smiled more, laughed more. And he had been two years younger. So why was it that Ben got to live whilst Liam had died for no good reason at all?

  ‘It’s unlocked,’ Ben said, glancing around at me. ‘You can get in.’

  I felt a sudden flush of hot guilt creep up my face as he looked at me. I hoped he hadn’t been able to tell what I’d been thinking and felt suddenly terrible for allowing my thoughts to drift that way in the first place. Ben might not be my favourite person in the world but he was just as loved as Liam had been. It was no secret that he had always been his parents’ favourite - I suppose because he had always been so responsible and sensible in contrast to Liam. And - of course - he also had a fiancée waiting for him at home.

  ‘What does Heidi think about all this?’ I blurted out before I remembered that he had snapped at me the last time I mentioned her.

  ‘What?’ he said as he slammed the boot shut at last.

  It was too late to take the question back so I said, ‘Your fiancée. What does she think about your going off around the world chasing after some mystery object with your dead brother’s widow?’

  ‘I don’t think she’s very happy about it.’

  ‘Do you love her?’ The question startled me, for I had asked it quite without meaning to and couldn’t help but wince and wonder what had come over me.

  ‘I wouldn’t be marrying her if I didn’t love her,’ Ben replied before walking around to the driver’s side and getting in.

  He’d spoken calmly enough but I thought it was probably wise to drop the subject before it could turn into an argument and just count myself lucky that it hadn’t done so already. It was a three-hour drive to Neuschwanstein and we spent the first two hours mostly in silence - we simply didn’t have anything to say to each other. Although I rarely liked what he said, I did like it when Ben spoke because his voice reminded me of Liam’s and made me feel closer to him.

  After two hours we stopped at motorway services to fill up with petrol and, to my slight surprise, Ben suggested that we go inside and have a cup of coffee before carrying on. I was glad of the chance to stretch my legs, so we parked the car and walked into the building, which was bright and clean and smelled of hot soup. I got a seat by the window overlooking the motorway while Ben queued at the till for our drinks. After a few minutes, he walked over and put the tray down on the table.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, as he handed me the paper cup and sat down.

  ‘I got us one of these each too,’ he said, opening his fist and dropping two miniature bottles of Jägermeister onto the table between us.

  I felt a lump rise in my throat at the sight of the little green bottles with the familiar deer heads on their labels. When I had come to Germany with Liam we had had a miniature bottle each because the weather was so bitter and they helped with the cold, warming you up from the inside.

  ‘I thought they might help with the cold,’ Ben said.

  I nodded and thanked him hurriedly as I put mine in my pocket, although I balked at the thought of so much as unscrewing the lid. I didn’t want to remember that distinctive smell or that distinctive taste because they were associated with too many happy memories that were now more bitter than sweet to me, for the man I had shared them with was dead and incapable of remembering anything ever again. The pain of the fresh sense of loss squeezed around my heart and I turned my head to look out of the window, knowing that the wave would pass.

  I was taken aback when, suddenly, Ben said quietly, ‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a prat since all this began. Whatever I’m feeling, I know it must be even worse for you. So if I’m rude to you again just tell me to piss off. And I’ll . . . I’ll try and do better.’

  I tore my gaze from the window and looked at him to see if he’d meant what he’d said, half-expecting the usual thinly veiled contempt, but instead he really did look sincere - even anxious - as if I might rebuff his attempt to make things easier between us. Before I could say anything, he went on, ‘Sometimes it seems impossible that things can ever go back to the way they were and I find that . . . unbearable. That’s why I snap - at you, at my parents, at everyone. I can’t . . . contain it. I can’t be dignified about it. It’s too difficult. And if I’ve made it even harder for you, Jasmyn, then I really am sorry.’

  ‘Thanks, Ben,’ I said. ‘I suppose we’ve both done quite a good job of making this even more difficult for each other.’

  He nodded, looking relieved. Eager to move on from the moment before one of us said something to spoil it, I changed the subject by saying, ‘Tell me about the Lohengrin legend.’

  ‘It’s a German medieval romance,’ Ben replied, looking more relaxed as he took the lid off his coffee. ‘Wagner wasn’t the first to tell it and there are different versions of the story, but the basic premise is that a knight appears in a boat pulled by a swan and comes to the rescue of a maiden falsely accused of killing her brother. He offers to help her on the one condition that she must never ask him his name. It turns out that her brother is alive but was turned into a swan by an evil magician. The maiden and the knight later fall in love and marry but in the end, of course, she asks the forbidden question. He tells her that his name is Lohengrin but now that she knows he has to leave and can never return. She dies of a broken heart as he sails away. It’s a typical opera - lots of death and unnecessary angst.’

  ‘Why isn’t she allowed to know his name?’ I asked.

  ‘Because the swan knights are supposed to have mysterious powers that stem from the Holy Grail, but these will only work if their nature is unknown. So by telling her his name and revealing himself as a Knight of the Grail, he comes too close to revealing the source of his power.’

  ‘And King Ludwig was fond of this story?’

  ‘Not fond so much as obsessed. He seemed to be fascinated by it even before he heard Wagner’s opera. He designed Neuschwanstein with Lohengrin in mind, decorating many of the walls with painted scenes from the legend and apparently the swan motif is everywhere - practically in every room. He wanted swans kept on the lake and he wanted them in his grotto at Hohenschwangau too.’

  ‘Have you ever heard of there being black swans at any of his castles?’

  ‘No,’ Ben replied.

  ‘Do you have any theories about why they fell out of the sky like that at Liam’s funeral?’

  ‘No,’ he said again. ‘I have no idea. I suppose it could just have been a freakish natural occurrence like everyone thinks. But it’s hard to believe that when swans seem to be so relevant in all this.’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Have you been to Neuschwanstein before?’

  ‘I’ve been to this area of Germany,’ Ben replied, ‘and I’ve seen the castle up in the mountains from outside but I’ve never . . . been inside—’ He broke off to jerk his hand to his head with a grimace.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing. I just have a headache.’

  ‘Headache?’ I repeated shrilly - the very word was enough to send tremors of sick fear coursing through me now.

  ‘It’s just a headache, Jasmyn,’ Ben muttered. ‘I’ve always had them. It’s nothing to worry about. Come on, we’d better get back on the road.’

  We left the services and went back to the car, driving on in a more comfortable silence than before. We didn’t have to go much further before both the castles came into view and Ben pulled the car over into a lay-by at the side of the road so we could get out and look at them. Schloss Hohenschwangau was to our right - a squat, bulk
y fortress painted yellow, surrounded by green, snow-capped pines against the mountainous backdrop of the Alps. And Schloss Neuschwanstein stood to our left - tall, white spires and turrets reaching up into the blue sky - the definitive fairy-tale castle in every sense of the word, situated in the same Alpine beauty as its stockier counterpart. We could not see either of them in any great detail from that distance for they were too high above us, but they were a striking sight nonetheless.

  ‘Neuschwanstein was used in the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang film,’ Ben said, leaning on the car door as we gazed up into the mountains. ‘And it’s the real-life inspiration for all of Walt Disney’s castles.’

  That didn’t surprise me, for it certainly looked like something from a Disney storybook.

  ‘Where’s the lake Liam went to?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s behind Hohenschwangau. You can’t see it from here.’

  He got back in the car and I followed him, expecting him to drive on to one of the castles from where we could then go down to the lake. Instead he sat there in silence, gripping the steering wheel.

  ‘So where are we heading for?’ I prompted.

  ‘We need to find somewhere to stay,’ Ben said, suddenly sounding a little odd. ‘Can you take over the driving?’

  ‘Why?’ I asked in alarm. I’d never driven in a foreign country before and although I was insured to drive the hire car, I wasn’t hugely confident about doing so.

  ‘Because I’m going to be sick,’ Ben replied, abruptly undoing his seat belt, fumbling for the door and scrambling out of the car to throw up at the side of the road.

  I undid my own belt and got out to walk around the front of the car to him. ‘You’re ill, aren’t you?’ I said sharply. ‘You’ve looked rough all day. What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Ben muttered, not looking at me but keeping his head bent. ‘I’m not contagious.’

  ‘What is it then?’ I asked, vaguely aware that fear was making my voice come out more angry than concerned because for a moment I was sure he was going to say he had some sort of serious, life-threatening illness - that he was dying too.