Tempting Fate (98 page)

“Who?” Ragoczy inquired. He was sorry for Gudrun and her distraught frame of mind. Whatever had convinced her to accept the tokens of wealth had not been sufficient when balanced against its demands.

“Helmut Rauch. I am Frau Rauch now, you know. Oh yes, he married me. He insisted on marrying me. The Thule Bruderschaft canceled the debts that Maximillian owed them and paid those he owed to others. All that was on the condition that I marry Helmut. They are most generous, truly. Their charity is exemplary.” She broke away from Ragoczy and paced around the carpet. The ruffled hem whispered as it brushed the carpet, making a sound like the wind through new leaves.

“Helmut Rauch?” Ragoczy demanded. He recalled the man with distaste: the thought of him imposing on Gudrun, Who had been forced to endure so much already, made him want to choke the man.

“It was such an impetuous courtship. One afternoon he presented himself at Wolkighügel and showed the letters of debt left by my brother and outlined the alternatives. I could not stand to have the house sold and the estate broken up, and the thought of the disgrace was more than I could tolerate, and so I accepted his handsome offer. We were married not long after. This stay at Schloss Saint-Germain is by way of a honeymoon. Do you know what it is like, finding that repellent man beside me in a room where you slept?” Her voice broke, but she contained herself. “I am learning, you see. I no longer burst into tears for mere unhappiness. Now it takes a great deal more.”

“Gudrun, I am truly sorry,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulder and holding her gently. “If I had known how things stood with you, I would have done whatever was in my power to aid you and see that you were not embarrassed again. Perhaps I should have seen it, but when you had refused my assistance and said that you could manage on what you had…”—he felt a pang of conscience as he spoke—“and I was not perceptive enough to see that you were only saying what you had been taught to say. I have not made such a serious error in some time. I cannot justify my neglect, but I hope you are willing to forgive me.”

She laughed once, not quite hysterically. “I did not tell you. I didn’t want you to know. I thought that you would despise me if you knew how badly—”

“Rudi, I have been a beggar and a slave, and though I was born a Prinz, my kingdom is gone. There is no shame in having no money, and no dishonor in being aided. You told me that you wanted to live so that your father and his father would respect what you have done. If they could know anything of how you have been forced to struggle and how poorly your brother behaved, they would commend you in the highest terms.” He thought that this was probably a lie, for he had known some of those stiff-necked old aristocrats from the days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and they, without exception, would have looked askance on Gudrun for allowing her troubles to reach such an impasse. He said nothing of this to the wretched woman who listened to him with pathetic dependency.

“Oh, I hope so,” she whispered, and seemed to go limp with concern. She held on to Ragoczy, and was able to bring herself to a stronger stance. “I don’t want to stay here. Your pardon, Graf, but it has become a tomb to me, this Schloss. It is very fine, no doubt, and I am a fool to want to be anywhere else, but I can’t remain. If I do, I think it will make me run mad.”

Ragoczy’s concern for her increased. “Does he abuse you?” he inquired gently, not wishing to reawaken the terror he had heard in her voice a few minutes ago.

“No, not truly. He is brusque and … does not much care how I feel when he is with me. When we dine, he praises everything, but in such a way that I shudder with worry and hope to think of something else to give him to eat. Part of it is that he wishes to be rid of Frau Bürste, for he knows she is my confidante and friend, and so he says things to me, snide, cutting things to remind me that I am now the chattel dining at the lord’s table, and that this indulgence might be stopped whenever it suits him. He does not want to dismiss her himself, of course. He would prefer I do it, so that I will have to end the only friendship, aside from the one I have had with you, that makes it possible for me to continue.” She brought her hands up to her eyes again, and this time she did not stop the tears.

“Do you want to continue in your life? Isn’t there somewhere you can go, or someone who would welcome you?” He could not imagine that she would be without family or friends who would be willing to have her with them.

“I have a few relatives, but they are in no position, to give me housing or material aid. I considered that, and could not justify it. I have an old friend in Innsbruck who has said that she would like me to visit, but she does not have the means to keep me with her for long, and I could not impose on her.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the ruffles of her velvet sleeve.

“Do you think she would prefer knowing what has become of you?” Ragoczy suggested more harshly than he wished. “If she has any affection for you, she has to value your happiness to some extent.” What was wrong with Gudrun? “What would you like to do?”

Her lips trembled at her attempt to smile. “I would like to live at Wolkighügel with Frau Bürste. It would not matter if it was as it had been. I did not like having no money, no new clothes, and seeing the estate go to ruin, but it was a pleasant life and I miss it.” She flushed. “Frau Bürste cares for me, and she is so good to me.”

Ragoczy heard the minor shift in her emphasis and thought he guessed the extent of Frau Bürste’s involvement with Gudrun, and was not in the least shocked. Gudrun was the sort of woman who would find the empathy of another woman more consoling than sympathy given by a man—which, he realized, included himself. “Is that possible? Is there a way you could arrange to live that way?”

“No,” she whispered. “I haven’t told Helmut about Frau Bürste, but he is suspicious. He watches me when I am with her, and listens to what he wants to, and reads the orders I write for her. He told me once that he would have none of his household indulging in tribadism. That is why he wants me to be rid of her.” She turned to him in supplication. “You won’t say anything to him, will you? You won’t let anyone know.”

“Why should I?” Ragoczy asked, baffled and a bit disappointed that Gudrun should think that of him. “I don’t disparage love, my dear.”

“But since you’ve…” Her hands waved an explanation, and Ragoczy spoke for her.

“Yes, we have been lovers. You did not wish to continue. For those of my blood, an unwilling lover is … useless, to say it callously. There is no purpose in seeking those who are not able to take pleasure from what I do. You know that you were not the first”—he did not remember the first lover he had taken, for it was soon after he had died and walked again; he had been filled with rage and humiliation and a thirst for vengeance which he had not slaked for more than a century of his changed life while he brought the lust of terror to those who had been party to his death—“and you will not be the last. Those I love often seek others as lovers, or accept me in lieu of those they want most. There was a lady in Italy once, whose spirit was widowed when her lover died. Eventually I sought her, and she was willing, because the one she loved most was lost to her and I had been his friend.” He could not think of Demetrice without sorrow, for she had been unable to live as those of his blood must, and had died the true death at her own hands when she had discovered what her changed life would be.

“Does it bother you? Don’t you care that there might be others?” She had never spoken to him this way, but she felt bolder than she had before.

“Why should I? Do you love me any the less because you love others?” He put his arms around her and held her lightly, without pressure but with affection.

“I … I have never known those who … It is immoral.” She sounded so prim as she gave this halfhearted objection, and Ragoczy could not keep from chuckling at her.

“Gudrun, dear Gudrun, where is the sin? I forsook religion long, long ago, and it has not harmed me. Deity is a fiction, a personification of what we love and fear most in ourselves. There is one God, you say, or are there two? Satan the fallen angel, is he a god? The Trinity—one, or three? Is God a parent, to protect and discipline his children, or a Presence that bestows understanding? What of religions with four gods, or five, or a thousand?” He said it rapidly, with bantering humor.

“They are not true religions,” she declared.

“How do you know? Each says that it is, and declares that the rest are in error. Were the gods of Egypt less valid than the Lord God of Israel? Shiva and Krishna, are they false? The Buddha, was he less worthy of veneration than Saint Stephen?” He kissed her forehead. “There is a Power, I don’t deny that, but it is without opinions—and morals are only opinions, Gudrun. The fire that warms your hearth and cooks your food is the same fire that burns cities and forests and men. It matters not at all to the fire, whose only purpose is to burn. There. Enough.”

She stared at him, a curious twist to her face. “Then you are not … What if I left my husband? I hate to call him that. What if I went with Frau Bürste and we lived together as we wish to do? What would you say then?” There was a faint return of spirit in this challenge.

“There would be those who would disapprove, but does that matter to you? Does their approval make your life bearable now?” He saw how worn her face was, how there were deep stains under her eyes and her fragile complexion was chalky; her lips chapped and all but colorless.

“Not … not directly.” She took a deep breath. “Not at all.”

He calculated a moment, then began as reasonably as he could. “I’m trying to get out of Deutschland. There is a writ of detainment issued for me, and from what I have been told, there is not a road on the western or southwestern border of this country where it is safe for me to cross. I must leave: it is imperative. However,” he went on as he felt her shrink back from him, “I am willing to take you with me, you and Frau Bürste, and arrange for you to live where you like. You may borrow one of my houses, if that would please you. It would not be Wolkighügel, but you would not have to stay with Helmut Rauch. It might be wise if you put some distance between you and Bayern, but that is up to you.”

Gudrun stared at him in complete doubt. “Why will you do this, Graf?”

“Because you have been kind to me, and I have loved you. And because there is nothing else I can do.” He was grave now, and did not know if she would believe his concern.

“To live away from here with Frau Bürste…” The happiness that had colored her voice was gone. “There is no money.”

“I will provide you some. No, don’t scowl at me that way. It is not a payment, it is a gift. There is so little joy in life, and we trust it so grudgingly. Do you prefer your misery because it is more concerted than pleasure is?” He dropped his hands and stepped back from her. “It would give me satisfaction to do this for you.”

“But…” She squared her shoulders. “If I lived with Frau Bürste, I don’t think I would want to see you again, except to visit, not…”

“You’ve asked me to go, Gudrun. If you wish me again, you will ask me to return. I don’t assume that you will take me to your bed for this. That is not why I suggested it to you. It saddens me to see you in such a state, that is all.”

Gudrun gave a watery sigh, “If only it were possible.”

“But it
is,
” he insisted, wanting to shake her with exasperation. “You have only to go change clothes and take what you need, and I will drive you to Wolkighügel, where you may wake Frau Bürste yourself. But we must be quick and get away at once. If Rauch is here, he will know about the detention writ and it would be … awkward to argue with him about it.” On his native earth, within his own walls, Ragoczy felt slightly more restored, but the improvement was slow, and he knew the reason now: the building had others in it, and its ambience had been subtly altered. The virtue of his earth was still there, but muffled, needing time to work its annealing benefits. Another hour and his exhaustion would be gone, but Ragoczy dared not remain there so long. “I cannot stay, Gudrun, although it is my Schloss. It is too dangerous.”

“Because of Helmut?” she asked, knowing the answer as well as he.

“In large part, yes.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Hurry. If we fail, you will be no worse off than you are now. If we succeed, you will have a chance to live as you wish to live.”

A shudder went the length of her body. “It would be much worse if we fail, but I will help you try. If I don’t, I will always wonder what could have happened, and that would be more painful than this helplessness is.” Her jaw tightened. “I will be quick. I won’t take much. I don’t want anything my husband has given me. They are all chains and cages, even this.” She ran her hand over the sleeve of her robe.

“As you wish. But hurry. I will wait here.” He tightened his hands to encourage her, then released her. “Quickly.”

“Yes,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“And quietly.”

“Yes.” She held his eyes with hers, then gathered up her robe and rushed out of the study, the pad of her feet so quiet that Ragoczy could not hear her after she had gone a dozen steps down the hall.

Ragoczy looked around the room and selected a stretch of floor immediately in front of the cold fireplace. He took his muffler and wiped the worst of the dust away; then he stretched out on the chilly stones, letting his thoughts drift, opening his soul to the potency of his native earth.

In her bedroom, Gudrun gathered up a few items of clothing and two pairs of boots. She was trembling with fear and a strange exultation as she scurried from closet to dresser, opening the doors softly, and closing them with excruciating caution. In the dark, she did not want to risk bumping into furniture or overturning a lamp or anything else that might fall to the carpet and make a noise loud enough to wake her husband, who lay deeply asleep on the bed. That still had the capacity to surprise her: Helmut slept so profoundly that he was not easily wakened. This time she did not pause to marvel over him, but clutched the garments to her and hurried to the bathroom. She closed the door and turned on the light, blinking as the brightness stabbed at her darkwidened eyes. With a shaking hand she slid the bolt on the door, locking herself in, and then she stripped off her robe and her nightgown, shivering as she stood naked. She reached for her riding breeches and pulled them on, hoping she would be able to get underwear from Frau Bürste, for all that she had here was what Helmut had given her, wispy silken things of improbable colors and no practical use. She buttoned the breeches and reached for a lawn shirt. It had a number of buttons and she faltered at the task of closing them all. She was about to pull on her sweater over it when she heard Helmut stumble in the hall.