Schloss Bremen
Late May-Early June RY153
It had been an exceptionally strange morning. When I had woken up, it would never have occurred to me that by lunchtime I would be willingly handing Stefan into my brother's care from now ad infinitum. Even when Robert had come to my office and argued his case, I still did not believe it...was unwilling to accept that somehow, somewhere, father's and my work had gone so very wrong. But the evidence he presented to me was undeniable, especially once I had verified it with my own eyes, albeit that I hated it, and I hated him for bringing it to me.
Of course, Robert of Sable would have been a bad messenger to shoot...tempting though it was at several times during that conversation...so I restrained my urges and heard him out.
You might not believe it to be true - depending on how you see me and think you know what makes me tick - but having to hand my son into his charge was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. A bereavement, and yet not a bereavement as intellectually I knew that while he must to be dead to the life I had wanted him to live when Delwin and I had brought him into being, he would still be alive and well and making his own way in the world. And to add to the unreality of the whole situation, in all likelihood I would still even see him occasionally. And yet, to allow Berthold to become my official son and heir, within the Fatherland, Stefan had to be dead.
I enjoy a good hypothetical problem, but with this dilemma I was presented with a classic: how does one kill one's son without actually hurting him? It certainly gave me an interesting intellectual challenge.
I decided that the cause of death would be a riding accident: commonplace and very possible, and it could easily cause an instant demise. So once I had a body, it would be necessary to simulate injuries commensurate with that: a broken neck would be simplest and quite plausible. After all, I wouldn't want to overdo it: too much overkill might be suspicious in itself. I also decided that I wouldn't tell Annifrid in the first instance, so that her grief would be genuine. There was time enough to clear things up later.
First, however, a body was required. Due to Stefan's position as my official heir in the eyes of the Imperial Council, were misfortune to befall him, because of the laws of the land, a post-mortem would be insisted upon, so there had to be a corpse. And I was going to have to move fast to provide one, given that it was now about 2pm and it would be a few hours at most before he was missed.
I considered how it could be done. The main options were to go into Shadow and find a near copy, which could be hit and miss at best as Stefan hadn't really travelled much out there; or to start with some basic raw materials and make what I wanted in fast time. The latter would certainly take less time as far as Magica Superior was concerned, and what I needed would almost certainly be available in one of the labour camps, so I decided on that option. I therefore headed out to a research facility out in Shadow which I keep for the purpose if I need a lab where time runs more quickly than on Magica Superior, and set about thinking how to do this.
If I could find as suitable starting point, I could then amend the genetics of the victim accordingly, in the confidence that no-one else within the Fatherland would be able to defeat my work in that field. Yes, we have a lot of talented (and Talented) geneticists, but I like to think that I'm still the master of the craft in the Reich. Okay, brother Robert would almost certainly be able to tell my handiwork, but it didn't seem particularly likely that the Imperial Council would ask for a post-mortem consult from the King of Sable.
Rutger Sigisiwald, Head of the Totenkopfverbande, and therefore head of the camp system, was the obvious point of contact. After all, he is one of my Knights, and if I swore him to secrecy, he would stay sworn. His oaths as a member of the Brotherhood would guarantee it. So I gave him a call and asked him to procure me a suitable prisoner of a specific height and weight and, in an ideal world colouring, and sat back to wait.
Rutger got back to me about half an hour later, from the medical facility at Langenstein, and handed me through a suitable candidate. The prisoner in question, 7869652, was drugged and unconscious, so he wouldn't even know anything about his upcoming fate. Rutger informed me that while he had been born a Citizen, he had been detained by the Forstapo for attempting to conceal his abilities as a shape shifter and had therefore forfeited his Citizenship, so he was being held for research into shape shifting and no-one would query me taking him for experimentation. Given that Stefan had manifested as a shifter himself, and that a certain flexibility of form was easier for another shifter to work, he sounded perfect.
I thanked my subordinate, then picked up my new acquisition and took him away to an area of fast time where I could set to work. The cosmetic details - changing 7869652 to look like Stefan - was the easy bit. Using my own ability as a shifter I could physically change him, including introducing a weakness in the spine at his neck, by overcoming his own abilities in that area, and then locking the changes in place. I suppose there was a vague possibility that a resume true form could undo my work, but I was reasonably confident that it would not, After all, were someone to do that, they would have to get past my strength of will to make a difference. And once he had served his purpose, it probably wouldn't work anyway. What is the true form of a corpse?
I settled down to work, and soon I was looking at the drugged, unconscious body of my son. It had been helpful to look at Stefan directly when I had been with Robert, as it gave me a baseline for what my duplicate's apparent genetics and state of health should look like. Then I made some further modifications which would be sufficient to hold the last part of the puzzle I had to simulate: his Black Pattern imprint. Once that was done, I conjured the Power source into him, effectively causing him to become an 'item' of Power, so he would pass any Pattern scan that the Imperial Council might throw at him. After all, it wasn't as if any problems of the Black Pattern trying to destroy and consume him because he wasn't of the right bloodline were a long-term consideration.
Once I was satisfied with my work, and had put him into stasis temporarily so he wouldn't go off, I settled down to consider the accident itself. I needed 7869652 himself, a horse and the dogs I had brought back, from the King's Isle. Meddling with the mental faculties of animals wasn't in my usual skill set, but I figured out that I could influence a horse's mind sufficiently to make the accident convincing, and the dogs could be made to believe that 7869652 was their master. That Stefan's usual mount, a bay gelding, was now residing in the stables of Sable Palace, was inconvenient, but not insurmountable. For speed, I gave Robert a call to reclaim the animal, and as he was obviously still celebrating the fact that he had acquired a potential new ally that morning, he didn't ask any awkward questions, and quickly arranged for its return.
That done, I needed to think of a location, where someone other than me would find him. Somewhere on the Bremen lands would be the most logical: Frida, Berthold and Stefan had been staying at Schloss Bremen (my official residence as Herzog von Bremen, which is about 10 miles from the Wewelsburg and the associated RSHA infrastructure, and about 20 miles from the city of Bremen itself) for a couple of days: Berthold had been competing in the local athletics festival over the weekend and the others had been supporting him (or so I had thought, although in Stefan's case, apparently not), and the boys were then off school for a week to revise for the national examinations starting the following Monday.
Of the two of them, Berthold had always had to work harder to pass exams: while he's undeniably intelligent, he just doesn't have an academic mindset. Stefan, on the other and, was of an intellectual bent, and could probably pass...no, would probably have passed...with his eyes closed. Which meant that he had a habit of going out riding or hunting during the days before the exams, doing all the work he needed in the evenings. And so, as he had almost certainly been seen leaving that morning, the accident site had to be within a reasonable day's ride.
Moreover, by now, it was about 4.30pm, Magica Superior time, and they would probably be expecting him home soon. When he did not arrive, they would send out a search party - indeed, it would be wise for me to join it when they did - so I was beginning to run out of time.
I thought through the Bremen lands in my head, and remembered a small copse near one of the rivers. It would be a perfect location for a riding accident. So I gathered up 7869652 and the horse, brought the Pattern to mind, and took myself and the components of my little scene through to an area nearby. Then I brought the body out of stasis, and woke him up.
He seemed understandably little confused - and not a little terrified - when he recognised me. Of course, without a mirror, he couldn't see himself, which made things a lot easier and avoided some more potentially difficult questions. Not that a prisoner would usually have the balls to question me on anything, what with the whole holding their life in my hands concept.
"Why am I here?" he asked, nervously.
"I'm offering you a chance to leave," I answered, indicating the mount nearby.
"But why...?"
"Haven't you heard that our policy towards shape shifters has changed? You're free to go. Unless, of course, you'd rather I returned you to Langenstein."
He looked at me, obviously trying to figure out if I was serious, and then must have decided that I was. I indicated Stefan's horse once more, and without giving me time to change my mind (not that I had any intention of doing so) he turned to the gelding and mounted up.
"I don't know what to say..."
"Then say nothing," I replied pleasantly, the very model of the generous benefactor, "Now go..."
Without further delay, he kicked the horse into motion and set off at a trot. Once he was about half-way to the copse, I took triggered the controls I had set in the mind of the animal he was riding, and caused it to bolt straight towards the trees. He clung on for dear life, and almost looked like he was going to succeed, until the animal conveniently charged under a low branch. He fell backwards, the horse galloping on without him, and I used my link to the Pattern I had imbued him with to affect the probability that his neck would snap on impact, killing him instantly. It was quicker than he would have experienced at Langenstein, and the ultimate effect was the same. The dogs I released, on the theory that they would either come home, or not, but I couldn't take them back to the Schloss myself without having to answer questions as to why they were with me, not Stefan.
I checked my watch. Just after five. Satisfied with my handiwork - although I decided not to approach too close, in case I left some trace of my presence - I triggered a teleport and headed back to Hradcany Castle. Then, come 6.30pm I would return home at my usual time, and hopefully no-one would be any the wiser.
As it turned out, Frida Trumped me before that, at around 5.30pm, and she was obviously worried.
"Ertti, have you seen Stefan today?"
"Not since first thing this morning," I answered, "why?"
"Wieslaw says he went out riding after breakfast, and he hasn't come back."
"I'm sure it's nothing," I replied, "it's a nice day. He's probably lost track of the time."
"I just have a gut feeling that something's wrong," she replied, obviously trying to fight back tears.
I will admit to feeling some guilt at seeing her upset, and knew it would only get worse before it got better, but I needed her to play her part until the funeral. Afterwards, I would tell her the truth, but if this went wrong, it would be better if nothing I had done could implicate her in any way, because, after all, some might see what I had done as murder (although I preferred to think of it as a mercy killing of someone who would have died anyway, and this way he finally served the Reich), and might decide to do something foolish.
"Give me a few minutes to finish things here, and I'll come home," I offered. She thought for a moment, then nodded and broke the contact.
I locked the remaining papers on my desk away in the drawers, then let Torres know that I was ready to leave, and she accompanied me home. Waldemar and Berens would join us a little later to take over from Stuckart and Radulf who'd been on duty at the estate that day. By the time I arrived, Frida was organising a search party, and various of the servants were mounted up ready to go and look for my son.
"You're really that worried?" I asked, slightly surprised in truth. She had always been fond of the boys, and obviously loved them, but the strength of her concern seemed unusual, even for her.
"I can't explain it," she replied, "I just want to know he's alright. And Berthold's worried as well. But then, they are twins, and twins are supposed to be able to tell if something's happened to the other one."
I cursed mentally. Berthold is not normally what I would call particularly empathic, and I hadn't accounted for any link he might have with Stefan. But then, given the revelations Robert had dropped on me earlier that day, and the fact that he and I can sometimes feel each other's emotions, perhaps I should have done. Still, it was too late now, and I was going to have to play it by ear.
"He's never really shown much sign of that before," I commented, "although I'll admit that Stefan sometimes does. But then, he seems more sensitive. I hope it won't get him into trouble as he gets older." I paused for a moment then added, "I should go with the search party."
"Thank you Ertti," she said, obviously grateful for my offer, and kissed me lightly on the cheek, "I'll stay here and co-ordinate."
I nodded, then after taking a few minutes to change out of uniform into civvies, I headed out to the stables where the search party was assembling, Torres trailing in my wake. I noticed that Berthold was there already, obviously planning to join the searchers as well. The grooms readied my usual horse, a black stallion named Abendstern, and I paired up with Torres who was provided with a mount of her own, as she had no intention of letting me ride off into the wide blue yonder alone. We mutually decided on the various directions we would search in (I subtly made sure that neither Berthold nor myself should be in the group that found the Stefan), and then set off.
One of the delightful peculiarities of Magica Superior (along with the fact that Sable and the Fatherland were on the same time zone, despite being thousands of miles apart), was that the hours of daylight were roughly comparable to those in Britain and Northern Europe, back on Terra Magica, so we probably had about two and a half hours until sunset. It ought to be enough. I had to make my search convincing, though, as Torres was with me, so we duly rode our designated search pattern, returning to the estate at about 8.45pm.
And as planned, we returned to consternation. Stefan's horse had been found making its own way back towards the estate of its own accord, limping somewhat, one of the dogs trailing behind it. Franz Hanke, my estate Jaegermeister, and two of his assistants had found them, and Hanke had sent the younger one, Marceli, back with the gelding while he and the elder, Patryk, had carried on in the direction he had been wandering from, hoping the dog could guide them.
By now it was heading rapidly towards darkness, so lamps were broken out and several of us rode carefully off in the indicated direction - although I insisted that Berthold stay with his mother, to look after her, just in case. In full light, it would take about two hours to get to the copse where I had left the body - of course, at night it would take longer. In the end, though, Patryk met us about half-way with the dire news. The young master had met with an accident, and Hanke was waiting with him until help arrived.
We confirmed the location with the huntsman, and then Patryk, Torres and myself made our way towards the copse, while the others returned to the estate. There didn't seem any point all six of us trekking through the darkness now our quarry had been found. Instead, a rather subdued group headed back to Schloss Bremen, with instructions to say only that Stefan had been found, and to keep the area of the stable yard clear for a teleport. It seemed only right that I should be the one to break the news to my wife and son.
The rest of us reached the copse around midnight, to find Hanke standing vigil over the fallen form, the dog lying beside him, thumping his tail mournfully. For some reason, the body looked so small in the lamplight, almost pitiful, and I'll admit it was a trifle disconcerting. But mentally, I knew it wasn't Stefan, and so I could put the fact aside and concentrate on reacting appropriately. In silence I knelt beside the body, checking the pulse and listening for a heartbeat, not that the latter was really necessarily: the angle of 7869652's neck told its own story.
"Mein Herzog, please accept the condolences of the staff," Hanke said, quietly. He looked devastated, and was obviously unsure what else to say, and behind me both Patryk and Torres mirrored his expression.
"Herr Reichsführer," Torres added, quietly, "I am so sorry..."
"I thank you for your concern and your wishes," I answered, formally, "all of you. But we should take him home."
"Of course, Mein Herzog," Hanke replied, "do you wish us to construct a litter?"
"I can take us by magic," I replied, my face the picture of the grieving father, "that way, at least I can tell his mother sooner rather than later."
Hanke nodded, and I organised for the group of us to be in position such that I could teleport us back to the Schloss, then triggered the transport, bringing us back to the stable yard. It seemed unnaturally quiet, as if the place was holding its breath. Then Wieslaw, the Head Groom, came out to meet us with a couple of the stable hands and took the horses from us in near silence, with Waldemar joining us as they did. Once the animals had been led away, I gently picked up the body, and carried it into the house - asking Torres and Waldemar to make sure that Frida and Berthold didn't interrupt while I took it upstairs to Stefan's room. It seemed as good a place as any to put it for now.
I laid 7869652 on the bed, arranging him with the care I would have if he had been my son, and then stepped back and checked the body visually. My work was still intact: he still looked like Stefan, and his face looked strangely at peace now. He was obviously in whatever 'better place' convicted criminals go to. Satisfied, I turned on my heel and headed downstairs to see Frida and Berthold.
I found them in one of the dining room, and Frida was in floods of tears. Somewhat annoyed, I guessed that someone in my household had already told her that her son was dead, despite my request that they should only say he had been found, and leave the rest to me. Beside her, Berthold was doing his best to comfort her, but he was pale and shaken himself.
"Is it true?" she said through her sobs as she saw me.
"I'm afraid so," I replied, quietly, and crossed to behind her chair and rested my arms on her shoulders, holding her to comfort her. She said nothing, but was again taken by crying.
"What happened, father?" Berthold asked, trying to put on a brave face.
"It's hard to say. It looks as if he came off his horse."
"He was a good rider," Frida sobbed, "that shouldn't have happened.
"Even the best of us have accidents," I replied, "and looking at where he was found, it's possible he hit a tree. We may be able to find out more when it's light..."
"Did he suffer?" asked his brother, and I shook my head.
"No, from a medical point of view, I'd say it was instantaneous," I answered, and I noticed that the news caused a look of relief to cross his features.
"May I see him?" my wife said, quietly.
"If you wish. He's up in his room. Shall I take you."
"Thank you, Ertti..." she answered, "I'd like to say goodbye."
I helped her up, and put an arm around her to support her, while Berthold silently fell into step beside me. As we were leaving, we met Waldemar. I noticed that there was a black armband around his left upper arm, although how such a thing could have been arranged so quickly, I wasn't entirely sure.
"Herr Reichsführer. I've informed the authorities and Hauptsturmführer Mediziner Hubert at the infirmary at Bad Tölz. They are on their way."
"Of course," I said, "I know, such things have to be done in a case like this."
"Standartenführer Schultz will be here shortly in case he can be of assistance," he said, politely, although I could tell that he was privately grieving. Several of the Honour Guard had come to know my family very well over the years, as they had been with us in fast time when we were bringing the boys up, "if there is anything myself or any of the others can do, then please don't hesitate to tell us."
"My thanks for your efficiency and your offer, Marius," I answered, with suitable sincerity.
He saluted, and then stood back to let us pass. In silence I took my family up to the room where I had laid the body, and then stood nearby as they said their goodbyes. Frida was disconsolate, kneeling beside the bed crying over the slim form. Berthold stood just beside her, a supportive hand on her shoulder, and I could see that even he was fighting tears, although his training as a platoon leader in the Reichsjugend meant that he was attempting to remain stoic and conceal his feelings.
In the end it was almost too painful to watch, especially knowing what I did about the truth of the matter, so I crossed to my family, and placed an arm around each of them to offer comfort. To my surprise, Berthold turned to me and embraced me, and I held him for a while to let him get his initial grief out of his system. A few minutes later, I released him, and between us we helped Frida to her feet. I gently guided her out and along the corridor to our room, and then put her to bed and gave her a sedative.
"You should get some rest as well," I said to my son, and he nodded weakly before heading off to his own room. For my part, I went downstairs to my study, poured myself a whisky, lit a cigarette and waited for the inevitable visit from the Kripo - the criminal police.
The head of the local branch, Sturmbannführer Kriminalinspektor Jakob Lutz arrived about fifteen minutes later in one of the official cars, looking as if he'd been got out of bed. However, he was polite and deferential as we spoke. After all, if you go far enough up the chain from the criminal police you reach...well, me, given that the regular police are also part of the RSHA. He was accompanied by Doctor Hubert, who was shown up to Stefan's room, where he could make the official pronouncement of my son's death. Lutz spent a few minutes with me, asking some basic questions, and then briefly spoke with Hanke, Patryk, Marceli, and Torres. But this initial investigation was obviously as much for the record as anything else.
I offered him the hospitality of the Schloss, to save him the return journey that night and the following morning, but he politely declined, not wishing to intrude on our grief. As he was leaving, I saw the carriage of the local undertaker driving up, and supervised as the body was laid respectfully on a bier and placed in the hearse, to be taken to the mortuary in the infirmary at Bad Tölz, where the post mortem would be carried out. It would then stay there until the night before the funeral, when the coffin would be brought home to await the morning. The undertaker was most apologetic about the fact that there would have to be a post mortem, but stressed that it was the law of the land - as I already knew. The untimely death of any Citizen or child of a Citizen in the Fatherland itself needed to be properly investigated. I allayed his fears, making sure he knew that I understood.
I did breathe a sigh of relief once he'd gone, though. By now it was four in the morning and it had been a long day, what with one thing and another. So once everyone had gone I decided to snatch a couple of hours' sleep, comfortable in the knowledge that I had done everything I could to cover my tracks and hide what technically, I suppose, amounted to Stefan's defection.
* * * * * *
The morning dawned cool and wet, in contrast to the warm, sunny day before. I left Frida sleeping, as it seemed the best for her, and took a light breakfast while I waited for Lutz to arrive. I was planning on accompanying him and Hanke out to the accident site, to keep an eye on what they found. The official car rolled back up the drive at about 8.30am, and as I watched out of the window, two people stepped out: Lutz and a striking looking woman I recognised as one of the Imperial Registrars - the group of officials who deal with the administration of all records related to the nobility within the Fatherland, such as births, marriages and deaths, coats of arms, etc. She must have come into Bremen on the morning ATS shuttle to have reached me from Berlin so quickly.
My major domo, Lukasz Roch, brought them through to the drawing room where I was sitting finishing my coffee, in short order. Hauptsturmführer Dietrich followed them in from her sentry post outside the door.
"Inspector Lutz and Fraulein Doktor Karoline Mies, Mein Herzog," Lukasz announced, formally.
"Thank you. If you would have breakfast sent in for my guests..."
"Of course," he answered, and backed out politely.
"Herzog Rupert," the woman began, "please accept the condolences of the Imperial Council on your tragic loss."
And she handed me a scroll sealed with the Kaiser's own seal, and as she did, I spotted the mage signet on the little finger of her left hand, which made her an Investigating Registrar - one of the sub-group of Registrars who actively looked into unexpected happenings within the nobility for the Council. I took the document and unrolled it, seeing the official Writ of Condolence. I noticed that Wilhelm had signed it himself, rather than leaving it for a flunky.
"I am sure you understand my presence here?"
"To record all relevant details and recommend a course of action to the Council," I replied.
I'd never had a great many dealings with the Registrars, save for the registration of Stefan's and Berthold's births, and the discussions over whether Stefan would be allowed to be my heir, given that at the time of his birth I hadn't been married to Frida. But I knew their purpose in the scheme of things within the Fatherland, and had been expecting their representative at some point, if not necessarily quite so quickly. Perhaps they wanted to dot the Is and cross the Ts sooner rather than later, which suited me well enough.
"Indeed. I will also be assisting Inspector Lutz with the investigation, both in my capacity as an Imperial Registrar, and as a forensics mage."
My answer was forestalled by the timely arrival of a maid with coffee and pastries for the visitors. She poured, then curtseyed and left, giving me time to gather my thoughts.
"You appreciate, of course, that this is a mere formality, but..."
"Of course," I answered, quietly, "the formalities must be observed in all things."
"Indeed," she replied, with a slight bow of her head, "so you will, of course, co-operate completely."
"Why would I not?" I answered, levelly. I suspected she could be difficult, although in a way it was refreshing to meet someone who wasn't cowed by their preconceptions about me and what they thought I might do. Too much subservience does get a trifle boring.
"Herr Reichsführer, we will attempt to make our investigations as unobtrusive as possible, as we know this is a difficult time for you and your family," Lutz added, obviously concerned at Mies's attitude towards me, and reiterating what he'd said the night before, "if it could be arranged for Jaegermeister Hanke to be in the courtyard in fifteen minutes, we will be ready to visit the scene of the accident."
"Naturally," I replied, "you will understand if I wish to accompany you..."
They both looked at me a little surprised, so I was obliged to explain.
"I must know what happened to my son," I replied, looking pensive and tired, "he was so young...had so much promise..."
I must have been suitably convincing, as they nodded their agreement almost immediately.
I called for Lukasz and gave him the orders, then indicated for them to sit and enjoy their breakfast while we waited for the appointed time. They agreed, but an awkward silence fell almost immediately, only interspersed with further expressions of sorrow and repetition that they wanted this to be as easy for me and my family as possible. I kept nodding politely, making sure I seemed suitably subdued.
We headed outside to meet Hanke a few minutes later, Dietrich falling into step beside me as I walked. He was standing in the shelter of the carriage porch, trying to avoid the persistent drizzle, but bowed slightly as we joined him. I then offered to transport us to near to the site of the accident, to save us a long, wet ride out there. Both Lutz and Mies were willing to allow me to do so, so I brought up a teleport and took us through to an area about five minutes walk from the accident site.
The rain had washed away any signs of blood which might have fallen on the pine needles. However, the scuffed area where 7869652 had hit the ground was still in evidence, as were the tracks of a bolting horse leading to the low branch which had claimed the young man's life, although the latter had partially been obscured by the rescue party trampling around the area the previous night (which suited me just fine). Lutz did a thorough mundane examination of the ground - I was given the impression that despite his subservience to me, he was good at his job - then indicated to Mies to begin the arcane work while he asked Hanke to talk him through his version of the night's events once more.
Mies was swift and competent, and had quickly brought up images of what had happened the afternoon before. While there was no sound, the visual clarity was excellent - better than many forensics mages can manage - and we watched 7869652 clinging on for dear life and then slamming into the branch. Once the replay had finished, I saw that Lutz's face had become a mask of sympathy.
"I'm sorry you had to see that, Herr Reichsführer," he said to me.
"It had to be done," I answered, sombrely, gesturing that I understood, "and I would rather know than always wonder. Fraulein Doktor..."
But as I glanced over towards her, I could see that she seemed troubled.
"Is there something wrong, Doctor Mies?"
"I've detected magical traces I wasn't expecting," she replied.
"Perhaps from when I teleported the body back to the house last night?" I suggested, thinking I might as well get it out in the open to allay any possible suspicion she might have, and after a moment's thought she nodded.
"Yes, that would likely be it," she commented, but she didn't look particularly pleased, "Herzog Rupert, you do realise, don't you, that doing so has contaminated the accident site? Might I ask why you did it?"
I bristled slightly, but tried to maintain my calm demeanour.
"I'm sure it isn't necessary to ask..." Lutz began, looking at Mies, but I indicated that he didn't need to protest on my behalf.
"Forgive me, Doctor Mies," I said, politely, perhaps with a slightly martyred look on my features, "it was dark and very late. Well past midnight. I was upset, and I knew Stefan's mother was waiting for news. So it was the quickest way to get him home. The ride in the dark would probably have taken another three hours. I teleported the recovery party back to the Schloss to save time, in the hope that I could be the one to tell her, and attempt to comfort her."
As I spoke, I could see her looking uncomfortable.
"Forgive me, Herzog Rupert...of course, I understand. But even so..."
"My apologies, Fraulein Doktor. I was not thinking straight."
"Completely understandable, sir," Lutz interrupted, before Mies could answer. She looked at me, obviously trying to decide whether she should protest further, but then she let it go.
"I shall note it in my report."
"Do you need to see anything else?" Lutz commented to her, obviously still somewhat put out that she had questioned my actions. Personally, I was inwardly amused, because she had been completely right to do so and he did not have the right to stop her. I could tell that I would need to keep an eye on Fraulein Doktor Mies.
"I've seen everything I need to here. Where is the body?"
"It has been taken to the infirmary at Bad Tölz, awaiting Doctor Hubert's post mortem," Lutz replied.
"So quickly?" she asked.
"It seemed best," he answered, and she nodded.
"Very good. You will take me there when we've finished at Schloss Bremen?"
"Certainly," he answered, overly politely, "Herr Reichsführer, are you willing to return us to the Schloss? We will need to talk to your staff, and the other members of the rescue party."
"Of course," I replied, and quickly obliged. We arrived back in the drawing room, where the tray had been removed, and I turned to them, "might I make one request?"
"Anything, Herr Reichsführer," Lutz answered smartly, again cutting in before Mies could object.
"Would it be possible to leave my wife and my surviving son out of your interrogations? He was in the rescue party, but he was not in the group which found his brother and he didn't help with the recovery. He and the Herzogin have been through enough without subjecting them to questions."
"I will need to speak with him briefly," Mies replied, "but I shall do what I can to limit it to matters relevant to the business of the Registrars."
The latter was said in a tone which indicated that she was trying to be conciliatory, after calling me on the use of magic out at the accident site, maybe finally realising that I might be a bad person to piss off. From what I knew of the Registrars' role in determining succession within noble families, there would be certain questions of competency, etc, which would need to be asked, and as I was keen for the baton to pass to Berthold, I nodded my agreement.
"Of course," I replied.
"However," she added, "I suspect that Inspector Lutz will need to speak with the Herzogin, as she was the one who raised the alarm."
I glanced at him, and he shrugged, apologetically.
"I will leave her until last, and try to keep it brief," he commented, "first, however, I must speak with the other witnesses."
"I shall order Lukasz to put them at your disposal. Will this room be sufficient for the purposes of asking your questions?"
"It will be fine, sir," he answered.
"Now, if you need me, I will be with my wife."
I left, and went to find Lukasz, ordering new refreshments for my guests and telling him that he and the staff should co-operate wholeheartedly with the investigators, and then went off in search of Frida. She was sitting huddled in a chair in the sunroom, looking out at the drizzle, although at least she'd finally stopped crying.
"I can't believe he's gone, Ertti," she said, quietly, as I gently placed my arms around her shoulders, kissing her on the cheek, and letting her lean into me.
"I know, my love," I answered, "neither can I."
"You're sure he didn't suffer..."
"As sure as one can be about these things," I replied. I pulled up a chair and placed it beside her, then sat down and took her hand in mine.
"Do these police people have to be here now?"
"The sooner they're finished, the sooner we will be able to say goodbye to him properly."
She nodded weakly, then lapsed into silence, and I sat with her as she stared off into space, lost in her thoughts, holding her hand and occasionally squeezing it to remind her that she wasn't alone. I'm not entirely sure how long we remained like that, although lunch came and went in our absence, but eventually there was a light knock at the door, and Lutz came in.
"I have finished, except for the few questions I need to ask the Herzogin," he said quietly.
"Frida, do you want me to stay?" I asked her, and she nodded. I looked up at Lutz, seeing if he was going to make me leave - as by rights he ought to, to prevent contamination of a potential witness - but he said nothing. Instead, he just walked over and sat down in a chair nearby.
"When did you last see your son?" he asked, gently.
"At breakfast," she replied, "he seemed his usual self. He mentioned that he might go riding, and that he'd be away most of the day."
"Why was he not at school?"
"His class has been excused lessons this week due to the athletics meeting this weekend, and the fact that they have national examinations coming up."
"He had been competing?"
"Supporting his brother," she replied, then added with a touch of pride, "Berthold won all three of his races, and set a new record for the 800 metres."
"Which school have they been attending?"
"The Kaiserin Elsa Academy in Berlin," I supplied, "is this relevant?"
"I'm sorry, Herr Reichsführer. I have to ask," Lutz answered, apologetically, then turned back to Frida, "and you didn't see him again after that?"
"I was due to make an official visit to the hospital and the Heinrich König High School in Bremen, so I left him eating breakfast, when my car came for me," Frida answered, "Wieslaw told me when I got back after lunch that Stefan had gone out about nine."
"Rather than revising? Which is presumably why his class aren't in school this week?"
"My son usually revised in the evenings," she said, haughtily, showing some of her usual spirit, "he was an exceptional student, and was top of his class, and didn't have to spend his time chained to his books." But then she seemed to fold in on herself once more, which was surprisingly distressing for me to watch. I didn't like to see her so defeated. "Not that it matters now..."
Lutz was silent for a few moments, obviously not sure whether he should continue, but eventually duty won over compassion.
"When did you realise something was wrong?"
"Usually when he goes out riding, he is home by four, maybe four-thirty, but by five there was no sign of him. And Berthold came to find me and mentioned that he was concerned."
"Berthold was here all day?"
"Unlike his brother, academic achievement doesn't come as easily to him," I commented, "and the public examinations are important. He wants to enter officer training as soon as he can, and good results are necessary, so he has been working hard."
"Of course," Lutz acknowledged, "Herzogin Annifrid, did he say why he was worried?"
"No, not really," she answered, "and eventually he decided he was being foolish and told me not to worry any further."
"But you did?"
"I couldn't help it. So I called my husband, who came home a little later."
"By then my wife had organised the search party, and the rest, I think, you know, Inspector."
He looked at us then stood.
"Thank you for your help, Herzogin Annifrid. And please, forgive my intrusion at this time..."
"The questions had to be asked," I answered, "presumably you and Registrar Mies will be going to see Doctor Hubert next?"
"We will. And of course, I'll keep you informed about the progress of my investigation."
I kissed Frida gently on the forehead, and then escorted Lutz back to the drawing room where Mies was waiting for him. I was sure they'd compare notes in the car on the way back to Bad Tölz, and it would be interesting to eventually discover what Mies's interpretation of events was, as it was potentially far more dangerous to me than anything Lutz might come up with. Then I bade them good afternoon, and watched as the car drove off down the drive. As I stood in the carriage porch, watching them go, I heard steps behind me, and turned to see Berthold.
"I hope she didn't bother you too much," I said to him, as he came and stood beside me. He'd grown since we'd brought them home from fast time, and I realised that he topped me in height now, and he would probably be more heavily built than me once he finished filling out.
"I think mainly she wanted to make sure I wasn't some kind of mental idiot," he answered, slightly dismissively, "how are you holding up, father?"
I turned to him and gave a weak smile.
"I'm sure everything will be fine. If you need to worry, worry about your mother. She's taking this very badly."
"I know. I stopped in on her before coming out here, and she was just sitting in silence, staring at the rain."
"Things will be difficult for her until after your brother's funeral. Then, hopefully, she'll begin to heal."
We lapsed into silence for a few seconds, before he spoke once more.
"Something's bothering me," he said, quietly, "might we speak privately?"
"Of course," I answered, and we walked to my study in the Schloss. Once inside, I indicated for him to sit by the fire, making myself comfortable opposite him.
"What do you think happened?" he asked, finally.
"I think probably his horse bolted and he couldn't control it. That's certainly what the images Doctor Mies came up with indicated."
"Does she know when Stefan died?" he asked, looking at me.
"She hasn't told me anything specific," I replied, "but at a guess from the images, probably mid-afternoon."
"Then why did I feel him die before that?"
I looked at him curious, and waited for him to continue.
"Or if it wasn't his death, something very bad happened to him."
"When?"
"Around lunchtime."
"Perhaps you'd better explain."
"I can't really. I suppose you know we didn't really get on that well..."
"I'd noticed," I answered, my tone neutral.
"But deep down we did care about each other, and sometimes we knew what the other was feeling. For example, if either of us was feeling some particularly strong emotion. I just didn't like to mention it as I thought you'd think it was stupid."
"Never that," I answered, "for my sins I have something similar with your Uncle Robert, of all people, so I probably understand better than you realise. Go on..."
"Well, around lunchtime, I had the impression that he was really depressed or worried about something. Then he was frightened. And then it seemed to cut off, and it was if there he wasn't there any more."
"Your mother mentioned that you'd said something to her."
"I told her I was worried about him. But I didn't know if what I was feeling was real, some kind of trick, or what. So I didn't want to make a big issue of it. But then, when the news came..."
"Did you tell this to either Inspector Lutz or Doctor Mies?" I asked, trying to hide my concern.
He looked at me and shook his head.
"I'm not sure what I could tell them. Did I do wrong?"
"No, Berthold. You did exactly the right thing. Let's keep this between us for now - don't mention it to anyone else."
"Of course, father," he answered, promptly, and I smiled at him.
We sat for a little while longer, both lost in our own thoughts, and then as if with one mind, got to our feet. I realised I was hungry, and Berthold commented that he should probably return to his books, as if he missed the examinations, he wouldn't have the opportunity to take them again until the autumn. I was pretty sure that if I spoke to the examining board, I could get that waived, but as it was the first sign I'd seen from him that he really wanted to pass, I decided not to interfere. If working helped him cope with Stefan's loss, then who was I to stand in his way.
"If you want to talk about anything else, I'm here," I said, quietly, as we stood on the threshold of the study.
"I know father," he answered, then gave me a quick hug, "but we'll get through this...you'll get through this. You always do."
Surprised at a second demonstration of affection from him towards me in little over twelve hours, I didn't really know what to say, but obviously he wasn't expecting an answer. Instead, he just turned and headed towards the stairs to go to his room. I watched him go, then made my way to the kitchen to find some food, and see if there was anything I might be able to tempt Frida to eat.
* * * * * *
Over the next few days, both the police investigation and Mies's enquiries were completed, and came to the verdict I had engineered: that Stefan's death was a tragic accident, and there was no reason to suspect foul play. Frankly, I was rather relieved. If I'd slipped up in any way, I think Mies would have found it, and that was a somewhat sobering thought. I made a mental note to check into her background at the first available opportunity, once I was officially back at work, to see if there was anything in it that I ought to know about.
I'd decided not to go to Hradcany during that time. Frida was taking the whole thing rather worse than I had expected and even Berthold's apparent bonhomie in the immediate aftermath of the disaster had turned into his usual moodiness. Instead, the various members of the Honour Guard coming and going on their duty shifts brought me dispatch boxes full of documents which my Chief of Staff, Ernst von Hoffman, didn't think could wait until my return.
The funeral was set for a week later, giving Berthold time to take his exams back in Berlin, although Frida and I remained at Schloss Bremen for the duration. By the day of the funeral, some of her old strength had returned and she was bearing up better, which gave me some measure of relief. Perhaps she would be able to take the news I was going to give her.
The funeral itself was held in the grounds of the Schloss. I had spent the day before walking the grounds with a representative from the cathedral in Bremen, Father Werner Kohl, to choose and prepare the burial site on behalf of the Diocesan Bishop, Henrik Orel. There wasn't a family chapel at the Schloss, as I'd never particularly been a proponent of the Reich's major monotheistic religion, beyond showing my face at high days and holidays, as was expected of a member of the Uradel, and the need for a family burial ground had never come up before. However, we found an appropriate spot towards the edge of the formal gardens, with a view out towards the parkland beyond, and he had spent the rest of the day consecrating it to the Universal Church.
The first arrivals the following morning were Heinrich Baumann, Wilhelm's equivalent of Rikart Schultz, and a couple of the other Imperial Knights. The Kaiser had seemed genuinely sympathetic when I had spoken with him during the week, and had agreed to attend. Schultz acted the consummate professional, as always, and between them they secured the area to their mutual satisfaction.
As far as security for everyone else was concerned, it was handled by a group of my men from the Wewelsburg, under the command of its Kommandant, Brigadeführer Wolfram Kapler, another of Andrew's progeny and full brother to Matthias. He co-ordinated with Jorge von Raeder - now settling into his new position as one of the priests of the newly founded Church of Protection, based in New Yorvik: the other end of the universe had seemed a suitably distant place where he could still work for me, and yet stay out of Andrew de Lacy's way. Because yes, when I'd finally gone to see Roland, the universe had had a sense of humour and I was now officially God of Protection for the Empire of Eboracum.
The other guests began arriving by carriage, car and teleport at about 10.15, with the Kaiser himself putting in an appearance at 10.40 for the eleven o'clock service, accompanied by Elsa and Theodor. Frida, Berthold and I greeted our guests as they arrived, and they were shown in the rear drawing room, where the coffin was lying ready to be borne out at the appointed time. I was in dress blacks, of course, as was Berthold - in his case, his best Reichsjugend uniform - and many of the guests were dressed likewise. Such is the way of nobility funerals within the Reich.
The service would be standard Universal Church rubric - also, as is the way of nobility funerals - although my own people from the Wewelsburg turned out in force, wanting to show their support for myself and my family in their own way, and at 10.55 took up positions lining the route out to the burial ground.
Berthold and I both took our places as pall bearers, and I was surprised - and, I have to admit, touched - when Wilhelm and Conrad took the other positions, as had obviously been agreed with the undertakers beforehand. Then, as the clock on the tower of the Schloss struck eleven, the procession began, the early summer sunshine warming the otherwise sombre occasion. Frida was beside me, inside the combined escort of Imperial Knights and Honour Guard, as we walked out, once again taken with melancholy. Once we got to the site, I saw that Stefan's Reichsjugend platoon - he may not have been a platoon leader like his brother, but he had been involved in the organisation and had had friends within it - were standing to attention around the grave, only stepping back as the coffin was lowered to the ground beside it.
I have to admit that Bishop Orel took a surprisingly moving service - as would be expected from an empathic Sensitive - and had I actually been mourning my son, I would have been comforted by it. Certainly Frida and Berthold seemed to appreciate it. Once the words had been spoken and the ceremonies completed, the coffin was lowered into the grave by half a dozen SS men, while a mixed group of SS and Reichsjugend fired a seventeen gun salute - one for each year of Stefan's existence. Then, the formalities over, we returned to the house to drink the toast of remembrance to a life cut tragically short.
During the wake that followed, Wilhelm took me aside for a word.
"Johan and Juliana send their apologies," he began.
"I understand," I replied. After all, the Crown Prince and his wife were expecting their first child within the month, "are you looking forward to being a grandfather?"
"I'm already a grandfather," he commented, with a weak smile, referring to Theodor's Lebensborn daughter Astrid, whose status had recently been confirmed by the Imperial Council, "but yes, this will special. Rupert, I know we've had our differences, but I am truly sorry about Stefan. I liked him."
"Thank you, Wilhelm," I answered, suitably soberly, "I appreciated the gesture, and I know Frida did. Conrad's idea?"
"Both of ours, really," he replied, "we felt we should do something. I know how much he meant to you."
"You're very kind," I replied, actually surprised that he seemed genuinely sympathetic. While our relationship wasn't actively hostile, it wasn't exactly built on friendship and was more than a little uneasy. Indeed, at times it was definitely strained...our personal motivations were too different and for some reason Wilhelm had always mistrusted me, although he had never shared with me the reasons why. Ironically, Robert gets on better with his son than I do, despite the fact that they're enemy heads of state, whereas I serve and protect the same Fatherland that Wilhelm rules.
"The Council met yesterday..." he continued, reaching into the inside pocket of the Wehrmacht uniform he was wearing, and very carefully handing me a document, well aware that there were Honour Guard around him making sure he wasn't going for a weapon. And of course, the Imperial Knights were watching the Honour Guard...
"...and they've agreed to confirm Berthold as your heir, with no argument or demur."
I took the paper, feeling as much as seeing Schultz and Waldemar relax, saw the Imperial Seal on it, and guessed it was Berthold's Writ of Entitlement as Erbherzog von Bremen.
"At least that's something. It's another weight off my mind."
"I thought you'd like to know. You'll give that to Berthold?"
"I will."
He nodded, then looked about him, as if slightly at a loss what to do next. Then he obviously made his decision.
"I should be heading back to Berlin. I'll see you at the next Council meeting?"
"I'll be there," I replied, and then we exchanged salutes, and he moved away. A short while later I saw him collecting Elsa and the Imperial Knights and departing, although Theodor, as a general in the Waffen-SS, stayed somewhat longer, both to support me as his commanding officer, and to catch up with the variety of other friends he hadn't seen in some while, due to duty schedules.
In the end, the wake wound down late in the afternoon, with the final guests leaving around five, much to both my relief and Frida's. It had been difficult for her, although she had managed to hold up as well as could be expected, and Berthold genuinely seemed to have mourned his brother and taken comfort from the proceedings. However, it had been an interesting experience: either more people were actually sorry for our loss than I had thought possible, or there are a lot more good actors within the Reich nobility than I would have otherwise expected.
Once everyone was gone, the place seemed so quiet. The following day we would be returning to Panenske Brezany, but for that evening...should I confess my sins now, or leave it a few days until the emotions had died down a bit?
I'd changed out of my formal clothing and was sitting, finishing a cigarette and considering that question, when I felt a light hand on my shoulder.
"Are you alright, father?"
I turned and smiled at Berthold, who was standing behind me.
"Well enough," I answered, stubbing out the butt, "the Kaiser gave me something for you."
I reached for the document on the table beside me, and handed it to him. He opened it in silence, read it twice, then rolled it up and held it in his left hand, silent and pensive.
"Berthold? Are you okay?"
"I suppose this brings it home to me," he answered, quietly, "the whole day has, but this is rather the final confirmation. He's really gone, isn't he...?"
I looked at him, then made my decision.
"Would you go and get your mother. I need to tell you both something very important."
Despite being slightly surprised, he didn't argue but went to find Frida, returning a few minutes later.
"What is it, Ertti?"
"Let's take a walk," I answered, and we strolled out into the formal gardens in silence. Schultz followed at a polite distance, eventually stopping at the entrance to the rose garden, which was circular and surrounded by high hedges, thereby offering a measure of privacy, while the three of us headed for the fountain in the middle. I sat on the edge of the stone basin, away from where Schultz was standing, and indicated for them to sit beside me. Which left me with one major problem: how to begin.
"I need to tell you about Stephen Lacey," I said, finally.
"Why?" Frida asked, suspicion in her tone, "who is he?"
"He's Robert of Sable's nephew," I replied, quietly, "and as of about two weeks ago, he has been living in Sable Palace."
"And before two weeks ago...?" Berthold asked, cautiously.
"He was your brother."
I'm not quite sure what reaction I was expecting from Frida, but it certainly wasn't a solid slap to the cheek. Frida's pretty strong when she puts her mind to it, but then, she was born a Viking princess: those rumours are completely true.
"How dare you..." she hissed, anger blazing in her eyes, "how dare you make jokes about him when we've only just buried him."
Over by the entrance, I saw Schultz start moving rapidly in our direction, but I waved him back. As I did, I put up an anti-eavesdropping field around us, as I realised that I needed to take some extra steps on the security of this particular conversation. Then I turned to her, rubbing the area where her blow had connected, and looked at her.
"I'm not joking," I said, quietly, "truly."
"Stefan's alive?" Berthold said, his tone incredulous, "but I felt..."
"What you felt was him walking the Terra Magica Pattern," I answered, "breaking the link to the one I took you both to and, it would seem therefore, breaking any link he had to you."
"You've said some cruel things in your time, Rupert, but this..." Frida said, staring at me with something akin to hatred on her beautiful face.
"I'm telling you the truth," I replied.
"But his body...I saw his body...I wept for him..."
"I had to make it look convincing."
"Convincing...?!" she retorted, hotly.
"Convincing," I replied, trying to remain calm.
"So you did what?" Berthold asked, obviously uncomfortable that his parents were arguing, but also curious about what I had said, "found a substitute?"
"Made sure he fitted the part, and provided a body that would stand up to investigation," I answered.
He looked at me and gave a wry smile, seeming more impressed than horrified, and I was pleased at how quick he was on the uptake. He really was much more like me than Stefan ever had been, or ever would be.
"Who?"
"A convenient nobody from Langenstein."
"We buried a convict?" Frida said, disbelievingly, "the Kaiser and the Chairman of the Party helped carry the coffin of a convict? I didn't realise that even you would have the gall..."
"No," I answered, firmly, "they helped carry Stefan's coffin."
"But..."
"Stefan was dying..." I said, looking at her, "his genetics were flawed."
"But he was...is...was...our son..."
"Sometimes the best parents can produce a child who isn't going to survive without extreme measures," I answered, "and such happened with us."
Then I looked at Berthold, who seemed genuinely worried.
"It was only Stefan," I said to him, trying to sound reassuring, "you are perfectly fine. I promise you."
"But father, why is he in Sable?"
"Robert has...adopted him, for want of a better term."
"My son is sick...dying...and you gave him to that bastard and pretended he was dead?" Frida said, staring at me unable to believe what I was saying, and for a moment I thought she was going to try to tear my eyes out, "why?"
"He was dying," I said, stressing the past tense, "walking the Terra Magica Pattern has saved his life."
"Then why couldn't he just come home...?" Berthold asked.
"Because he doesn't belong here," I replied, "his damaged genetics mean that he is too closely tied to Sable and my brother, rather than us."
"I don't understand," my son answered, and it was obvious that Frida, equally, couldn't...or wouldn't...get her head around the concept.
"It's complicated," I began, "you both know about my relationship to Robert?"
"You mean the fact that you regularly have tea with that sanctimonious, hypocritical bastard?" Frida said, almost spitting venom. She hadn't liked Robert before, and my encounter with Andrew and made things so much worse.
"Physical, not emotional," I answered, "the fact that we became twins rather later than the norm. I know I've explained this to you before, Frida."
"I thought you were like Stefan and I..."
Despite myself, I gave a weak smile.
"You and Stefan were more like Robert and I than I had ever believed possible, Berthold, and thereby hung the problem. You and he, like Robert and I, are beings with two very different paths...and his path is linked to Sable, not the Reich. To the extent that taking him to the Wewelsburg and letting him walk the Pattern there had doomed him to die. You know he hasn't been all that well this year..."
Frida looked at me, still angry, but at least she acknowledged what I said with a nod.
"The Pattern was directly responsible for that, and it was only getting worse."
"So you made him walk another Pattern...I get that. But having done that, why can't he come home?"
"His being...his mindset are of Sable, not here, and to be honest, if he came home for any length of time, he would probably end up betraying the Reich and getting himself executed for treason, maybe dragging us down with him. Because that is his nature. He wouldn't be able to help it. It would just...be."
"So he's alive, but we can never see him again?" Frida asked, weakly.
"For a few months...to give him some time to get used to his new life. But after that...I told him to use your card. You'll hear from him, even if he can't stay here for longer than a couple of days at a time. I just have to trust that you will be discreet about it."
I looked at her, but she was still obviously firmly unconvinced that what I had done was the right course of action
"He had to die as far as the Reich is concerned, and begin a new life. The body we buried today, to all intents and purposes, was Stefan, metaphorically, physically and officially, and if anyone ever finds out to the contrary..."
"You'd be in big trouble?" Berthold suggested.
"To put it mildly. I suspect the Writs of Attainder would be flying rapidly thereafter."
"Rupert, why did you tell us this?" she said, quietly.
"Because I wanted you to both know that he was alive," I answered.
"But you couldn't tell us before?"
"Your grief had to be genuine."
"And yet by telling us now, you've taken an awful risk," Berthold commented, obviously concerned.
"The only risk is if one of you denounces me," I replied, "and I rather hope that however angry you may or may not be with me just now, you wouldn't do that."
"And what about Robert of Sable?"
"He agreed not to prevent him visiting you, once he's settled," I answered, paused a moment, then added, "he also agreed to let Alban see you. He found out - I'm not sure whether it was from his son or Stefan, but he found out - that Alban had been here. He wasn't happy, but he accepted that both of them should keep in touch with their mother."
"And their father?"
She never had ceased to think of me as Alban's father, even though I knew it wasn't true.
"The jury's still out on that one," I answered.
"By the gods, you're a cold bastard at times, Rupert Delatz."
She was obviously still uncomfortable and upset, and I suspected that underneath she was still furious with me. And while I couldn't admit it, I found myself hoping that she would eventually managed to come to terms with what I'd said, and return to her normal self. Before her, I'd never met a woman who had broken through my emotional defences so thoroughly, and I found myself realising that I would hate to lose her.
"I pulled a dirty trick on you, and I'm sorry. But there was no other choice."
"I'm going to have to think about this," Frida said, finally, "it's a lot to take in."
"I do what I have to to protect those I care about," I replied, stating what I believed to be true, "and I care for both of you, and Stefan, more than I have ever cared for any other living beings..."
She didn't answer, which I'll admit hurt. I'm not used to professing my emotions quite so openly, and to have the gesture completely brushed off rankled slightly. Instead, she got to her feet, and composed herself, then walked off into the gardens in silence. I watched her go with regret, hoping that she would find her peace soon and then come home to me.
"The letter you gave me from the Kaiser..." Berthold said, breaking my reverie, "if Stefan is alive, then surely it doesn't mean anything."
"No, it means everything. You're my heir, Berthold. Officially, and in my own mind. You really always should have been...this just corrects an accident of birth."
"Will you miss him?"
I thought about the question, then nodded.
"Yes, I will. But this is the best solution for all concerned."
"I don't think mother thinks so."
"She'll come around..." I said, watching the direction in which she'd walked, "she's an intelligent woman, and she's resilient. Once she's come to terms with the emotional shock of what's happened this last couple of weeks, I think she'll be alright."
I paused for a few moments, then added. "It's been a long day. We should head back in side and rustle up some food."
With a nod of agreement from my son, we rose, and then walked over to where Schultz was waiting for us.
"Is everything alright, Herr Reichsführer?" he asked, politely.
"It will be, Schultz," I replied, "it will be."
But I think I spoke with more confidence than I felt, and possibly realising this, Berthold wisely said nothing.