Snapshots #2: Dominion/Tenterden
Tenterden, 2009; Dominion 1953-65
Dominion, September 1970
University applications time. Rowan had already made up her mind what she wanted to do, which didn't surprise either Marina or me. Of the two of them, she was the leader, and definitely the more determined. She wanted to be a barrister, and had decided to go to Cambridge to read Law, although she'd deigned to apply to Oxford and Kings College London as her second and third choices. And even if she hadn't been able to manipulate probability to make it so, she was far and away bright enough to do it on her own merit, and had the grades to prove it.
Linden, though, was harder to fathom. He was very intelligent, and had a natural talent for words and languages which he got from both his parents, probably through being brought up bilingual. But he wasn't the natural scholar his sister was, and more to the point, he seemed much more torn between England or Germany. He had German citizenship, of course, because of his mother (and the fact that his elder brother could mess with the citizenship records at his leisure), and he'd spent the last three summers over there, staying with Artur and Gisela at their place in Berlin. In contrast, as Rowan had got older, she had become more and more hostile towards both Germany and Artur, and never joined them there.
"Come on, little brother," Rowan said, over breakfast one Saturday. She was never going to let him forget those seventeen minutes, "how hard can it be? There must be somewhere you want to go; something you want to do."
"I'd like to do more with my German, and learn more about the country."
"Well, then look for universities which have good German programmes," she answered, although it was obvious that it would have been the last thing that she wanted to study, "Oxbridge, Durham, Birmingham - you've got lots of great universities to choose from."
"But I figure, if I want to study a foreign language, I ought to study it in that country."
"Makes sense," I commented, "I did French in Paris."
"Like...in the 1920s, Dad," Rowan said, witheringly, "I mean, you're really, really old."
"Thanks for reminding me, daughter mine," I said, with a sigh, "I'll have you know I'm very well preserved for my great age."
She grinned, but didn't look even remotely apologetic.
"Of course, I did come back to Cambridge to do my Master of Laws."
"I'm going to do them all in one go," she said, confidently, "I intend to be fully qualified, with my Doctorate, and Bar exams by the time I'm twenty-five."
See what I mean? She already knew exactly what she wanted.
"Blaine says he's trying for the Freie and the Humboldt in Berlin, the Ludwig-Maximilians in Munich, the Erlangen-Nürnburg and the University of Leipzig," Linden commented, less confidently, "I was wondering about joining him."
"You really want to go to university in Nazi-Central?" Rowan asked, looking at his as if he'd grown two heads.
"If I want to study German, I want to do it in Germany," he answered, "and those are the best schools there."
"You've spent too much time with Artur and Gisela," she commented, coldly.
"And whenever I see them, they ask me why you don't come and visit. What did Artur do to you that means you dislike him so much?"
"Well duh..." she answered, and turned back to her breakfast, indicating that she thought the subject was closed. But Linden had other ideas.
"Seriously, Ro," he asked, genuinely bemused, "I don't understand what you problem is. And Gisela's great, but you've never even given her a chance."
"That's because she comes as a package with him."
"But what did he do?"
"In case you've forgotten, our brother is the boss of the biggest concentration of psychopaths in the world. Do you have any idea how many innocent people he's sent to their deaths? How much blood he has on his hands?"
"That was before he got the job," Linden protested, "they don't do that kind of thing anymore."
But Rowan had a point, and I wondered how true Linden's statement actually was, especially given the post-coup clean-up shortly after Artur got the job.
"Only because they've run out of people to do it to," she snapped, and flung down her cutlery and stormed out.
Linden sighed into his coffee, and I could see that he was hurt.
"What do you think, Dad?" he asked, quietly, "are you okay with it?"
"If it's what you're sure you want to do. But she has a point. Germany's better than it used to be, but you'll still need to watch your step there."
"But I like staying with Artur, and Gisela, although I see more of her than him, usually, as he's always busy, or down at that stuffy old castle. But if Blaine was there as well, then at least I'd know someone else, and with Artur and Armand there, I think I'll be okay. And I really do want to study German."
"Then by all means go ahead and apply," I answered, "but at least allow me to worry about you. Father's prerogative, and all that."
"Thanks Dad.... I'm sure they'll keep an eye on me. What could possibly go wrong?"
Oh so many things. But primarily, in my mind, was the possibility that he might decide to stay.
* * * * * *
Dominion, July 1974
It was still something of a shock thinking that the twins - both sets - were twenty-one and graduating from their bachelors' courses at university. Of course, sod's law had dictated that Rowan's and Linden's respective ceremonies would be on the same day. I'd wondered about messing with that, but in the ended decided not to bother. After all, I couldn't attend Linden's, so I agreed to go to Cambridge while Marina went to Munich with Wolf and Katharine, who were going to support Blaine. They all hoped to be back in time for Soren's ceremony in Oxford the following week.
Rowan hadn't been all that pleased when she'd heard, but had eventually conceded that it wouldn't have been fair for both of us to miss Linden's graduation; and after all, I was a Cambridge Alumni, and didn't look old, so I wasn't too embarrassing to be with. I was so proud of her as she accepted her certificate: first in her class, of course, as well as being President of the Cambridge Union, which was quite something for an undergrad. And she even deigned to let me take her out for lunch at the smartest restaurant in Cambridge. It was wonderful to just be able to enjoy being with my daughter.
We drove home that evening, and she was excited because all being well, Marina and Linden would be home as well. She may not have agreed with his choice of university, but she did love her brother, and missed him when he was a seven hundred miles away. And sure enough, when we arrived back in Kent, there were lights burning in the main lounge, and the sound of laughter. We headed inside, and as soon as she saw Linden, she crossed to him and gave him a big hug, while Soren and Blaine cheered them on. In the meantime, Wolf and Katharine were curled up on the settee, seeming islands of calm in the madness.
I looked across at the four of them, feeling very proud. Two firsts - Rowan and Soren, who had discovered that Archaeology and Ancient Languages were his true vocation; summa cum laude in Military History and Politics for Blaine; and even Linden had managed magna cum laude in German Language and History. As I stood there, Marina slipped in behind me, and put her hand round my arm and her head on my shoulder.
"We did good, didn't we?" she asked, quietly.
"Yes we did."
"How was Rowan?"
"Beautiful and confident. Linden?"
"The most handsome boy on the stage, of course."
"Well, how could he not be, with you as his mother."
"You old flatterer, you. What say we leave them to it?"
"Probably wouldn't go down that well - celebratory dinner, remember. Rain check?"
"Believe me, I'll cash it in about ten minutes after dinner's over."
An enjoyable night was had by all, and as I was nursing a slightly thick head the following morning, when Linden knocked on my open study door and came in. He looked surprisingly serious.
"What is it?"
"I've got something I need to tell you, Dad."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, exactly..." he replied, cautiously, "but I suspect you might not like it."
I really wish my offspring would stop saying that to me, because whenever they did, it was bound to be something to do with either the Nazis or the SS. I indicated for him to sit on the spare chair the other side of his desk, and waited for him to continue.
"Blaine and I have been accepted to the SS-Junkerschule at Bad Tölz. We're due to start at the end of August."
And there it was; the very thing I'd been afraid would go wrong when he'd said he wanted to study in Germany. I wondered how much influence Artur had had in that decision.
"You want to join the SS?"
"Mama says it's a family tradition. Her father...Wolf...Armand...Artur...she said even you have honorary rank in it."
"Not here I don't. That's something related to your maternal grandfather," I answered, reaching for my coffee cup and downed it in one. "Have you told your sister yet?"
"I rather think she'll go ballistic. If I'm lucky, she'll talk to me again in about ten years."
"Then why do it?"
"Because living in Germany for three years has told me that that's where I want to make my home."
"I can understand that...but the SS?"
"The RFSS's brother can't exactly join the Wehrmacht, can he?"
"So people know you're his brother."
"It kind of came out..."
"But why do you want to go into the military at all?"
"Blaine persuaded me to join the cadets at uni, and I really enjoyed it."
"Have you decided which branch?"
"Not yet. I think that'll all get sorted out at Bad Tölz." He paused, then added. "Are you angry, Dad?"
"To be honest, I don't know," I answered, "but your mother will be happy. Your sister, on the other hand, definitely won't be."
The tantrum when she found out lasted three days, followed by six weeks when she avoided him like the plague. It was heart-breaking to see, given how close they had always been, but there was nothing he could have said and done which would have made any difference, apart from change his mind. And that wasn't going to happen, as it was obvious that his heart was set on going to Bad Tölz with Blaine.
As summers go, it was the most uncomfortable one since we'd come to Dominion, and things really only began to settle down once he had gone back to Germany in mid-August. She stayed in England, and that September she went back to university fired with a dogged tenacity to finish her Doctor of Laws and then fight the Nazi regime that had taken her brother with every legal means in her power.
* * * * * *
Dominion, June-August 1976
It was one in the morning, and I was sitting at my desk finishing up the latest reports on the combat readiness of some of the new regiments, when I felt a Trump call. Even before I opened up to it, I could feel the strength and urgency behind it. Cautiously, I opened up to the contact to see Artur. He doesn't really show his emotions, and at times I wonder if he has any: being a borderline sociopath being something of a job requirement for being RFSS. But this time... I'd never seen him looking so upset.
"What's wrong?" I asked, "are you and Armand okay? "
Towards the end of the previous year, my grandson had been the target of an assassination attempt in Russia (always bloody Russia...the place is cursed for me and mine). He'd got off with relatively minor injuries, but the risk had to be there that some bastard would try again, and Armand was about the only person who might have got Artur into this kind of state.
"He really needs your help just now, Ian," he answered and offered his hand. I stood up, took it and went through.
He was in a hospital - thankfully in Germany, not Russia, from the signage - standing in a side corridor. He was wearing rumpled cotton trousers and a gaming t-shirt.
Artur dressed like a student in Germany? Gods help us it had to be serious.
"What's happened?" I asked.
"Just come and see," he pretty much ordered, and headed off down the corridor, expecting me to fall into step beside him.
Too concerned to argue, I did as I was bid, working on the theory that no-one was going to query my presence here if I was with him, however dressed down he looked. He didn't go far, before pausing by the open door of one of the rooms. I could see a woman I didn't recognise lying on the bed, either asleep or sedated, and over to one side, Armand was sitting hunched over a bundle of blankets, rocking backwards and forwards, muttering. I recognised his defeated posture as he sat there, from many years working in A&E and seeing the nightmare of too many parents. I hadn't seen him so vulnerable since we'd rescued him from the Lynx, so many years ago.
I looked at Artur, genuinely shocked. I hadn't even realised that Armand and his girlfriend - Hell, I didn't even know her name, as we'd never been introduced - had been expecting. But when I saw my son's stricken face, almost as pale and distraught as his friend's, I bit back anything I might have said.
"It would have been a boy," Artur said, quietly.
I moved quietly into the room, and realised Armand praying quietly in Gaelic, which seemed strangely out of place. I brought up my magical sight, and quickly concluded that he was sub-consciously using the rites of the Group to do...something. I just couldn't tell what it was, and more to the point, he was in no fit state to be doing anything of the kind.
"Give him to me," I said, as I crossed to him, and without a word he sat back and let me take the bundle from his lap, although what the Hell Artur thought I could do anything for the motionless body in my arms, I had no idea. I'm not God, for goodness sake.
Behind me, I could feel my son sealing the room, while I carried the child over to the incubator and laid it down, before opening up the blankets to see if there was anything at all I could do. Maybe the key was in the fact that my grandson had been Working, however subconsciously. I slipped into a trance and began trying to figure out what had happened. Over where Armand was, I was aware that my son had sat down beside him, and I could hear them talking quietly. I tuned them out to concentrate on the job in hand.
As I examined him, I could tell that there had been severe systemic damage from lack of oxygen. And yet as I looked more closely, I became aware that however still the body was, I could feel his soul. It was like watching a bird trapped inside a greenhouse: frantically trying to get where it was supposed to be. It wasn't trying to leave the body; it was trying to stay. And because it wasn't its first turn on the Wheel, it knew something was wrong
What the Hell?
I concentrated, using my astral sight, in conjunction with my normal two eyes, and then, drawing on my abilities as a healer and Ritualist, plus the power of the land I'd made my own, I started trying to open the doorway for it to go home. It was like doing a banishment in reverse: exorcising the soul into the body, instead of out of it. This was no place for logic, so I started working purely on instinct.
Talk about flying by the seat of my pants.
I have no idea how long it took, but eventually, I became aware that I could feel a pulse, and was no longer working with the soul, but with the child's physical body. More to the point, I could feel it helping me, much as Dieter's inherent shifting had after the Germania coup. And then I heard a gasp, as he took air into his lungs by himself, and he started to cry.
Bloody Hell! What had just happened?
"What did you do?" came a shaky voice from behind me, and I turned to see Armand getting to his feet, Artur the faithful shadow a step behind him. The looks on their faces were the same: hope, combined with disbelief.
Just then, admitting I hadn't a clue wouldn't have been the right thing to say.
"I needed to ease the passage of his soul into his body," I answered, because at least it sounded profound, "it's an Old one, by the way, although that probably isn't a surprise in this Family. No idea who yet, though."
I wrapped the blankets the baby again, and then handed him to his father. He was all fingers and thumbs, and I had to remind him to support the head. And then he began to rock it, tears on his cheeks, and its crying subsided to grumbles and groans. The boy could even charm a baby out of screaming.
"Isn't that the wrong way round?" Artur said, looking first at Armand, and then at me, and I had a feeling that he knew I was bullshitting, even if his friend was too caught up to think about it, "easing the passage of a soul into the body?"
"I can't think of another way to explain it," I answered, "it was as if his soul couldn't find its way in. I helped, and once it had made itself comfortable..."
I tailed off as I saw them looking at each other, and then at me, and then at each other again, obviously trying to decide if I was mad. And in the end Artur gave up trying to figure it out.
"Let me get the doctors."
He brought down the wards and headed out, leaving me alone with Armand. At which point, I was taken by a sudden urge to hold my grandson.
"You're a father, child of my child," I said, still amazed at what had just happened, and took them both in my arms.
- - -
It was a warm Sunday evening, and I was sitting outside on the patio, dozing in the sun. I hadn't been doing much since the evening in the hospital. Whatever I'd done for that little boy, and I still had absolutely no idea what that was, it had seriously knocked the stuffing out of me. It was almost as if I'd given up part of my own life energy to jump start his.
I'd called in sick from the office on Thursday and Friday, and the fact that Marina was off on assignment in the US meant that I could just rest for a few days. So I'd read, and swum in the Wittersham House pool, and walked occasionally, and slowly regained my equilibrium. I was considering whether to bother to ask cook to make me any dinner, when I heard a voice calling as someone walked round the side of the house.
"Anyone here?"
I smiled as Wolf came into view, with a bounce in his step, and I knew that Armand had finally told him he was a grandfather. I guess he'd waited, because he wanted to be sure that the baby was going to make it, although probably letting him know that I already knew wouldn't go down well.
"Hey, Wolf," I said, putting on my best poker face, which if he really looked hard enough would help for about thirty seconds, and getting to my feet, "you're looking pleased with yourself."
"Mihai," he said, breaking into a grin, "I'm a grandfather."
"Technically, you have been for a while," I pointed out, as I indicated for him to sit, "what with Chad's three and Madison, all of whom you're managing to seen on a semi-regular basis."
"I know, but this is different. Armand and Charlotte...they had a little boy on Wednesday night."
"He kept that one quiet."
"He didn't want us to know until after it was born. He muttered something about there being some question that the child might be disabled. Which I found hard to believe. As if Armand could do anything less than perfectly. He would have just charmed away any bad genes."
Oh Wolf, my friend. If only you knew.
"But he's feeding well, and putting on weight, and the various tests the doctors have done indicate all the right mental and physical responses."
"So he's going to be okay?" I asked, relieved, but as I did, I obviously let something slip.
"You already knew, didn't you?" he said, his bonhomie fading before my eyes, "why didn't you tell me?"
Talk about busted.
"Artur asked me not to say anything," I admitted, somewhat uncomfortably.
"And exactly what does the esteemed RFSS have to do with it?" came the answer. He sounded cold, angry, "Come for that, why the Hell did he tell you first?.
"He didn't want to see you hurt."
"By refusing to tell me I had a grandson."
"By wanting to be sure you actually had a grandson," I said, quietly.
"What on Earth happened?"
I took a moment to figure out the best way to tell him, before answering.
"He wasn't breathing when he was born," I said, finally, "Artur called me, and thankfully I could help. But with the potential for oxygen deprivation, they were probably worried about brain damage. And you know what that would have meant..."
As I watched, he went white, as he realised what I meant. One of the many policies I disagreed with that Artur had maintained since becoming RFSS was the T4 euthanasia programme for the mentally and physically handicapped.
"Oh Christ."
"Would you have wanted to be told that Armand had a son, only to discover three days later that he wasn't deemed worthy to live, under the rules of the great Aryan regime?"
"Oh, that's cold."
"But it's how they work. You know that."
"Artur needs to fix some bloody rules."
"If he was going to, he would have done it by now. Unless he now changes it for Armand's sake."
We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, looking at each other before I got to my feet.
"But you know, whatever I think of Artur's day job, I think this deserves a drink. Wait here."
I said, and headed back inside and down to the wine cellar. I quickly located what I was looking for - a 1966 Heidsieck - and headed back upstairs. I grabbed a couple of glasses from the crystal cabinet in the dining room, and rejoined him outside. Then I popped the cork on the bottle and poured us both a glass, putting the bottle on the table between us. It was enough to tease as smile out of him.
"I'm pleased for you, Wolf," I said, raising my glass to his, "congratulations...to you and to them."
He paused a moment, then chinked his own glass against mine.
"It was really that close?" he asked, quietly, but he obviously didn't really want to know the answer.
"So, do they have a name for him yet?"
"Not yet," he answered, "maybe they want to be completely sure he's going to be okay."
"That would make sense," I said, with a shrug, "but I'm sure he will be. And he'll be an adept when he grows up. Like the rest of us. That I know."
"Let's hope he decides to follow our path, rather than Artur's."
"Amen to that," I answered, and we took a celebratory drink.
- - -
I plunged into pool, to cool off from the heat of the July sun and swam a couple of lengths. Rowan was throwing a pool party for some of her Law School friends, but she'd deigned to let her parents be there, in their own house. Maybe it was because we didn't look old and crumbly, so she could pretend we were 'just friends', and I'm a mean hand with a barbecue fork.
I was completing my third length when I felt the Trump call. At least it didn't feel as frighteningly urgent as the last one I'd received, so I held it off while I dragged myself up the steps and threw a towel around my neck. Then I walked a short distance way, so I wouldn't embarrass my daughter by letting them seeing her father talking into the air.
This time, Artur looked relaxed, rather than frantic, and I could see he was out of uniform, in a grey cotton open-necked shirt. However, behind him, I could see a stone wall, with a window looking out over countryside, and guessed he was at the bloody Wewelsburg.
No doubt he was equally unimpressed to see his father dressed in swimming trunks, with a towel around his neck.
"This is a bad time," he stated, flatly.
"Don't worry," I answered, "is everything okay?"
"Yes...this time. But I wanted to ask you something, if you'd be willing to come through to me."
"Give me fifteen minutes and I'll call you back?" I suggested, and he nodded, then broke the link.
Dismissed by my own offspring. But I guess nine years as RFSS does that to you.
I called to Rowan, to tell her that the BBQ was now her problem, and then headed inside the house. I rinsed off the chlorine, then pulled on a polo shirt, shorts and sandals. Once I was ready for polite company - or at least seeing my son - I walked back down to my study, dug my Trump deck out of my desk and shuffled his card to the top. I concentrated on it, and moments later he answered and offered his hand.
I stepped through into what looked like a combined office and lounge, in what could only be the round tower of a castle. From the feel, I knew I'd been right in my guess which one. As I looked around, I saw bookshelves lining the walls - specially shaped for the curved walls, and the furniture was the solid wood and leather style so beloved by the Germans.
"Thanks for coming, Ian," he said, crossing over to a small drinks cabinet, "do you want anything?"
"G&T if you have it," I answered.
He mixed two of them, then reached into the small fridge beside the cabinet and dug out some ice cubes. He dropped them into our glasses, came over and handed mine to me, then indicated for me to sit down. I did as I was bid, taking a sip from my drink and sighing in pleasure.
"Presumably you're not going to have me arrested for being in Germany without papers," I said, after the initial bitterness of the drink had dissipated, leaving the refreshing after taste. Who would have thought that he could mix such a bloody good G&T.
"Neither that, nor being on a military base out of uniform," he answered, and I actually saw a trace of a smile on his lips. It suited him, and I wished he'd do it more often.
"So what's up?"
"I want to ask you a favour, but I wanted to do it in person, as I'm not sure what you'll say."
I sipped my drink, heart sinking at another of those conversations, and waited for him to continue.
"I want to ask you if you'll be one of Adrian's God-fathers."
Okay. That I wasn't expecting.
"Adrian?"
"Armand's little boy."
"Of course, if that's what he wants. Although I'm not quite sure why it's you asking me, rather than him."
"In part, because he asked me to make the arrangements, and in part because there are one or two formalities which need to be put in place if you agree to do this."
"Surely we'll just get together at Lammas, and do the ceremony with the Group, the way we did with Rowan, Linden and Elena."
"I know you'd prefer that, but can't do that this time," he answered, his tone actually apologetic.
"Why not?"
"Because Führer Heydrich has insisted on being involved."
I nearly choked on the mouthful of gin I'd just swallowed.
"Excuse me?" I stammered, as I wiped my chin with my handkerchief.
"Armand is the general commanding the Waffen-SS. This one's going to have to be a fully-fledged SS name-giving."
"You want me to stand in the same room as Reinhard Heydrich?"
"No," he answered, and I thought he was letting me off, before he added, his expression decidedly mischievous, "I want you to stand in the Wewelsburg courtyard with Reinhard Heydrich...assuming the weather's fine, of course. Which if you put your mind to it, I'm sure you can arrange."
"There's no way I can do that."
"Make sure the weather's fine?" he asked, puzzled at my refusal.
"Stand in the same courtyard as Heydrich."
"Why? Because of your oh so high and mighty principles?" he said, his eyes narrowing, all sign of mischief gone.
"Partly," I admitted, "but more practically, because of my oh so complete lack of German citizenship or residency. Standing twenty feet from Heydrich would be enough to get me shot as a spy."
"Don't forget, you do have a German wife, which could be considered mitigation," he answered, more gently, "but even putting that aside, seriously, who's going to prosecute? The SS? It's the same as when you were in the hospital. If I say you can be here, you can be here."
Which of course wasn't even a boast. But that didn't mean I had to like it.
"Maybe I should rephrase the question. If the legalities could be arranged, would you be willing to stand as a name-godi for Adrian?"
"Name-godi?"
"A name-godi is one who actually gives his name to the child. The child then carries their names for the rest of his life."
"I thought you had to be in the SS to even be involved in a name-giving."
"Yes. But honorary ranks are acceptable, and as RFSS, such things are in my gift. Which would, of course, also automatically solve the whole right to be here issue."
"You want to do the same thing Dieter did for me, around the time of the Random Working?"
"If you're willing...and the occasion is far more celebratory, I think."
"Does Armand know you're asking me?"
"As I said, he left the arrangements up to me."
"What about Wolf?"
"Wolf is going to have his hands full being the proud grandfather. You should have seen him when Armand told him. He was pleased as punch."
"He came and talked to me after. Chuffed doesn't cover it."
"It really doesn't," he answered, and I saw a surprisingly soft smile on his face, "he really does love his children. I envy him that."
"So if not him, why me?"
"Because there wouldn't be a name-giving without what you did in the hospital. And while I don't think it has occurred to Armand to ask you, I'm doing it for him...and for me, because you helped my friend."
"On one condition."
"What?"
"You promise that you won't force me into a dress black uniform for the occasion."
"I think I can arrange that."
"Okay, I'll do it. For him, and for you. After all, the same thing applies. If you hadn't called me..."
"I know. And if I haven't said it before, thank you for coming when I asked."
- - -
By the gods it was hot. The middle of Germany on Lammas, and I'd underestimated the continental effect when I'd organised the sunshine. But at least I wasn't cooking in Hugo Boss's best, unlike Artur, or the tall, blond man who was talking to him, their body language relaxed, as if they were friends. Which gods help Artur, they genuinely seemed to be. Taller than even my son, who had me by a good inch and a half, Heydrich really couldn't be anything other than a Shadow of his Tenterden namesake. He had too much presence.
Marina seemed relaxed, chatting with Gisela, but I couldn't shake the tension I always feel at the Wewelsburg - whichever one it happens to be - despite the fact that the oak-leaf pin in my lapel gave me every right to be there.
Across the courtyard, Wolf was with his family, who had all turned out for the celebration. Even little Elena, now a precocious non-quite-eleven. I don't envy Wolf when she starts getting interested in boys. Linden was obviously quite at home here, and like Blaine was wearing the uniform to prove it. In fact, of my immediate family, only Rowan had refused to come. But then, I hadn't expected her to. Her dislike of the Reich was about as strong as mine had been before I became so bound up with Dieter, and she had still never reconciled herself to Linden's decision to become part of it.
My grandson had been told to get there for 3pm, and we heard his car almost exactly on time. I vaguely wondered why he hadn't just Trumped in, but maybe he just didn't feel he wanted to. Artur went over and met him at the gatehouse, then escorted him and his little family over to the small, silver draped altar that had been set up in the shadow of the North Tower. Even Armand did a double-take when he saw Heydrich there: Artur obviously hadn't told him in advance that his Führer had chosen to honour his general with his presence.
Artur used Reichsführer's privilege and conducted the ceremony. As I'd seen at our shotgun wedding, and later when he'd been involved in naming the twins and Elena, a calm and focus came over him when he acted in a priestly capacity, which wasn't there in everyday life. It was as if he had tapped into the history and tradition of the rituals - however genuine they had or hadn't been to start with - and channelled the priests of old.
It didn't take very long - maybe fifteen minutes - at which point he handed Adrian Artur Reinhard Jan Becker back to his proud parents. I was interested that he'd used Jan, instead of Ian, but I suppose it did sound more German.
Heydrich called for champagne, but only stayed for half an hour or so before departing. I don't know if the others were as pleased to see him go as I was, but I did let out a sigh of relief.
"Thanks for doing this, Ian," Artur said, wandering over to me once he'd seen his boss off the premises, "I hope it wasn't too unpleasant for you."
"It wasn't unpleasant at all," I answered, with a half-smile, then glanced over at Armand and Charlotte, "and they look happy. Do you think there's the slightest chance they'll stay together? Heydrich obviously wants them to."
"While Adrian's a baby, maybe. Beyond that? I doubt it. I don't think she's the woman he would have chosen if she hadn't got pregnant. Although he does love that little boy, so maybe for his sake..."
"What about you and Gisela?"
"We're happy," he replied, "but there aren't going to be any children. We're just going to have to live vicariously through Armand and Adrian."
"I'm sorry, Artur."
"Don't be...I've come to terms with it now, and it's not like I have time to be a father, anyway."
I looked at him, and saw that he seemed so sad. I hadn't expected that - whatever he said, I could feel the ache in his heart - and somehow it made him seem more human.
"Dare I ask how Blaine and Linden are doing?"
"Pretty well. As you've no doubt figured out from their unit insignia, Blaine's settling down with the Waffen-SS. But like me, that didn't suit Linden, so I've invited him to join the Ahnenerbe. I thought you'd prefer that to the Gestapo or the SD."
"Definitely. Is he okay with that?"
"He loves languages, and he's proving a dab hand at deciphering runes. He's got Wolf's knack with reading people, too, so I think he'll be fine. Is Rowan talking to him yet?"
"Not really. I don't think she's forgiven either of them for joining the Dark Side. But at least she and Soren have stayed on good terms."
"Maybe, given time, things will sort out between them."
"We live a long time, so it has to eventually. But I'm not holding my breath."
"She really hates me, doesn't she," he said, with a sigh.
I had no idea how to answer that, so I dodged the question by looking back over at Armand. Where I saw that Marina had taken charge of Adrian, while Charlotte had gone to talk to Wolf.
"Oh Crikey...I'd better go intervene, before she decides to get broody again."
Artur looked at me and actually grinned, then fell into step beside me as we headed over to where Marina and Armand were talking. I slipped my hand around her waist, and waved at the baby, who gurgled in response and tried to reach out for my finger. Wolf's eyes - and by extension, Armand's - were staring back at me as I looked at him, bright and keen, with no sign that he wasn't anything but a normal, healthy little boy, and I felt strangely satisfied.
"You do good work, Ian," Artur said to me, quietly.
"I try," I answered, and smiled as he turned to talk to Armand.
It always amazed me how two people who were so very different - in a way the very embodiment of Light and Dark - could be such firm friends. But the fact they were was undeniable, and as I watched them together, I felt deeply glad that they were there to watch each other's backs.
* * * * * *
Dominion, Summer 1983
"I think it's time to head home," I commented to Wolf, over a drink on the patio, "we've got a lot done in thirty years."
"Speak for yourself, Mihai," he answered, "I've been here maybe a quarter of that."
"But you've left your mark. And you've left Messer's Jobs and Gates in the dust."
"So I liked the idea of Britain being the leader in technology, rather than the US," he said, with a shrug, "so sue me."
As we talked, he kept checking the blocky-looking prototype smartphone he'd laid on the table, obviously waiting on a message.
"So what's so important?" I asked, curious.
"The judge's ruling on whether Apple infringed my PDA and cellular patents," he answered, "after all, the only way they could have come up with their equivalent is if they'd disassembled some of my company's designs."
"Do you have any idea how wrong that sounds in 1983?"
He just looked at me and grinned, completely unrepentant. In a way, he'd probably left more of a mark on Dominion than I had. He'd brought the tech revolution into being nearly twenty years early. But then, he was a bloody sight better with the Pattern, and his time here had let him unleash his inner geek.
Me, I'd just worked with Armand to strengthen the armed forces to the extent that if needed, I could just call on their services. While, once we'd gone, we wouldn't officially hold our respective ranks and positions here, much of the last few years had been spent setting up the legal framework to give myself, Wolf, Armand and Artur the right of command over any forces in the British and German Empires, and even certain parts of Russia. All we had to do was come back and ask for them.
"Do you want to stay on?" I asked him, as I sipped my drink.
"Not full time. The fact that I need to be in Amber hasn't changed. But once the place is back running at something closer to one to one, I'd certainly like to carry on coming here. Especially as our respective daughters are showing little or no inclination to go anywhere else: what with Rowan's burgeoning career as international legal expert - although I think she's going to be going some to get the SS declared a criminal organisation - and my budding artist. They've never known Tenterden, or Amber, or anywhere else, except as stories."
"I suppose so. Rowan was very young when she left. And I don't know what Armand's plans for Charlotte and Adrian are, for much the same reason."
"That, and the fact that he has no idea what sort of reception they'd get from either Bleys or Dieter," Wolf pointed out, "especially Dieter, who isn't going to be happy that his poster boy has an illegitimate son, but didn't have the decency to either marry the girl, or have the boy brought up Lebensborn."
"I think Bleys could go either way. After all, Armand's your Heir, and second in line to the throne, even if that little detail hasn't been officially announced. So there's an argument that Adrian is actually in the Amber succession. What about Katharine?"
"We've talked about it, and she's happy to go back to Germania, and being my chatelaine and partner there, as long as Blaine, Soren and Elena stay in touch."
"I'll make sure they have access tokens, even if they aren't Shadow-capable yet, but it does sound like you're going to be playing taxi."
"Probably. But it's another good reason to keep a presence on this place. Although as it stands, this world is linked to you."
"True. But I suspect that if you and I worked together, especially given your skill with the Pattern and mine with ritual magic, we could transfer it to you, if that's what you want. After all, you helped me figure out the time flow here, so you have some feel for it already. And once I'm back in circulation, Tenterden and Amber will be keeping me busy again. So if you want to try? After all, I know you well enough to know that a) there's no way you're going to let your daughter loose on her own without being around to keep an eye on her, and b) you love your tech enough that you're going to want to carry on taking over the IT universe. Let alone c) you aren't going to walk away from your grandson, if Armand does decide to keep him here."
"I will admit, it would be nice to have somewhere of my own."
"Of course, you do have Freyshof?"
"That's a bit different. It's much more linked to my past life than my current one, even if I visit it when I can. And while I love Tenterden, but it's yours and always well be. So yes, if we can figure a way to transfer ownership, then I'd want to do it."
"And it would mean you still have somewhere out of town where you can meet your friend. If you still want to after all this time."
"There is that," Wolf said, with a slight smile.
"Then let's put our heads together, and see what we can do."
* * * * * *
Tenterden, 15th April 2009
"Welcome home," Carmichael said, as we stepped through the Trump, back into the Wittersham House entrance hall. It was strange to be back there after so long, and it took me a moment to get my bearings.
As well as Marina and Aoife, Soren and Linden had decided to come back with us, although in Linden's case, as much as anything else, he was curious and wanted to see his original home. He certainly hadn't given up his commission as a Captain in the Dominion Ahnenerbe, but had decided he might commute, which of course was an easy thing for him, given his abilities with the Pattern.
Blaine, too, had kept his position there, and was now moving up the ranks of the Waffen-SS, albeit with slightly less speed than his brother Armand. Like his sister Elena, having never lived on Tenterden, he wasn't that interested in visiting. Rowan had also chosen to remain on Dominion, for very much the same reason, although, I had made sure all three of them had access tokens, in case they changed their minds.
Soren, though, had wanted to come home. He was seriously considering either taking up a teaching post at one of the universities, or becoming a field archaeologist, and had agreed to help me find out just how many Broken Patterns and places of Power there were on Tenterden. He'd muttered about learning how to draw Trumps, as well, which, if he could find a teacher, would prove very useful to let my little sub-branch of the Family stay in touch, split as it would now be over multiple Shadows.
Of the older youngsters, Artur had stayed on Dominion to finish some things up, but would be returning to Germania shortly, to report in with Dieter. That was going to be interesting. I assumed the position of RFSS was already taken on Germania, and even running Hexenland, he had to co-ordinate with the rest of the Council. So I was far from sure confident how he would adjust easily to a subordinate role again, given that he'd been top of the SS heap for the last eighteen years. My suspicion was that he was going to find it hard to relinquish that power, and he and Dieter were going to have some working out to do.
Possibly the hardest decision, though, was Armand's. He knew it was time for him to go back to work in Rebma, armed with thirty years more command experience, but he'd been torn over what to do with Charlotte and Adrian. Given the circumstances of Adrian's arrival, Germania wasn't really an option, so realistically his choice was between whether to leave them on Dominion and visiting them there; or uprooting them to the safety of Tenterden, where hopefully there was less chance that their existence would be discovered. So for now, he'd stayed where he was while he and Charlotte decided. They weren't formally together any more - that had only really lasted about eighteen months after Adrian was born - but he had maintained visiting rights, seeing them every weekend he could, and was enough of a gentleman that he wasn't going to make a decision which might mean taking her son away without talking to her.
Wolf had also advised him that he ought to introduce Adrian to Bleys, out of courtesy, which I suspected he'd do sooner rather than later. I still couldn't figure out if Bleys would just be polite and leave it at that; or whether he would welcome the lad into the bosom of House Bleys with full honours. Even Wolf wasn't sure on that one, and he had a better idea of what made the man tick than I did.
"Hello Carmichael," Soren said, with a broad grin, and put his arms around the older man.
"Master Soren?" he answered, surprised, but recovering quickly, "it's very good to see you. But you've changed so much...and surely...that isn't Master Linden?"
"Who else would it be?" Soren asked, cheekily, "Linden, this is Carmichael. I don't know if you remember him, but I'm sure grandpa's told you stories."
Soren was probably right. Linden had been so young when we left, that he probably didn't remember having seen the older man before.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Carmichael," Linden said, politely, although he didn't offer his hand. I guess he was still used to thinking of Richmond and his people, who were definitely staff.
Carmichael bowed slightly, then glanced over at me, his expression somewhat quizzical, and.
"We've been away a while."
"So I see," he said, greeting Aoife and Marina before turning back to me, "how are the rest of the family?"
"Wolf and Katharine are fine - they have a daughter now, whose just left university. Rowan's all grown up and practising as a barrister, and Blaine's in the Army."
"Will any of them be joining us this evening."
"Probably not, but Wolf and Katharine will be home soon enough, as should the Artur and Armand."
"And Master Blaine and Mistress Rowan?"
"I'll do my best to make sure you get to meet them. But probably not at the same time."
"Very good sir."
I could tell that he was bursting with curiosity, and maybe a little sadness - I got the impression that he'd got used to the chaos the twins had been causing before they left, and was disappointed that it was gone for good - even if he was far too polite to mention it.
"Ah Carmichael," I said, gently, "you and I have a lot to talk about. Why don't you join me in the library later, and I'll tell you what's been happening since I last saw you."