The Ring (8 page)

Kassandra was to be buried in the Von Gotthard family plot. It was already populated by Walmar's father, his older brother, his grandparents, and three aunts. And now he would leave her with the others, his sparkling bride, the fragile wife of the elusive laughter and the wondrous eyes. His gaze shifted from the headstones to his children; Ariana looked only faintly like her mother, and Gerhard not at all. Ariana, with her long colt legs, stood beside him, wearing a white dress, white stockings, and the dark blue velvet coat with the ermine collar, trimmed with the remains of her mother's splendid coat Beside her stood tiny Gerhard, a portrait much like his sister, in short white trousers, white stockings, and the same dark blue. They were all Walmar had now, these two small children standing at his side. He vowed silently to protect them from the evil that had so brutally destroyed his wife. No matter what happened to his country, no matter how badly their values were betrayed, he would let nothing happen to the children. He would keep them safe from the venom of the Nazis until Germany was free again from Hitler and his kind. It couldn't take forever, and when the storm had passed, they would still be safe at home.

' to keep Your child, Father, in the eternal peace she has found now at Your side May rest in peace. Amen.

The five onlookers silently made the sign of the cross and stood quietly for a moment staring at the dark wood box. Walmar's and the minister's umbrellas stood high above them as the sky opened up its heart and cried, too. But none of them seemed to notice the rain as they stood there, as it fell around them in driving sheets. At last Walmar nodded and touched the children's shoulders gently.

Come now, children, we must go. But Gerhard wouldn't leave her; he only shook his head and stared.

In the end Fr+nulein Hedwig simply led him back into the car and lifted him inside. Ariana was quick to follow, with one last glance over her shoulder to where the box lay and where her father stood alone, now that Grandmother had also gone. The minister hurried back to his own car, and only Wahnar stood there, looking down at the coffin covered with a single wreath of large white flowers. There were orchids and roses, and lilies of the valley, all the flowers that she loved.

For an instant he wanted to take her with him, never to leave her in this place with the others who had been so unlike her. His aunts and his father and the older brother who had died at war. She had been so childlike, and she was still so young. Kassandra von Gotthard, dead at thirty. Walmar stood there, unable to believe she was no more.

It was Ariana who finally came to find him. He felt the small fingers lace into his own and looked down to see her standing there, her blue coat with the ermine collar drenched with rain.

We have to go now, Papa. We will take you home. She looked so old and wise and loving, her huge blue eyes a distant shadow of those others he had known. She cared nothing about the rain as she stood there. She only looked up at him, holding tightly to his hand. And then, silently, he nodded, his face wet with tears and winter rain. His Homburg was dripping water onto his shoulders, and the tiny hand was held fast within his own.

He didn't look back over his shoulder, and neither did the child. Hand in hand, they climbed silently into the Hispano-Suiza, and the chauffeur closed the door. The men of Grunewald cemetery then slowly began to cover Kassandra von Gotthard's coffin until it, too, would become a green mound, to rest with all the others who had come before her and whom she had never known.

Ariana? He stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. If she didn't hurry, they would be late. Ariana! The nursery floor lay above him, transformed now into rooms more suitable for teenagers. Now and then he had thought of moving the children downstairs to be near him, but they had grown accustomed to their own floor, and he had never been able to bring himself to reopen his wife's rooms. The doors to Kassandra's empty apartment had stood closed for seven years.

The clock chimed the half hour, and then, as though on cue, light flooded the upper hall. As he looked up, she stood there, a vision in layers of white organdy, with a spray of tiny white roses woven into her golden hair. Her long neck was like ivory rising above the snowy dress, her features a perfectly carved cameo, and as she looked at him, her bright blue eyes danced. Slowly, she came down the stairs to him, as Gerhard grinned from above her, peeking from what had once been their playroom door. He broke the spell of the moment, calling down to his father, who waited, stunned, at the bottom of the stairs, She looks good, doesn't she? For a girl. Both Ariana and her father smiled then. Walmar nodded and cast his son a tired smile.

I'd say she looks extraordinary, for a girl. Walmar had just turned sixty-five that spring. And times weren't easy, not for a man of his years, or for anyone these days. The country had been at war for almost three years now. Not that it changed how they lived. Berlin was still vivid with beauty and excitement, almost to the point of frenzy, with constant parties, theater, opera, and endless novel forms of entertainment that he found tiring for a man of his age. In addition there was the constant strain of maintaining order for his family, running his bank keeping clear of trouble, and sequestering his children from the poison that now ran freely in the country's blood. No, it had not been easy. But so far he had managed every turn. The Tilden Bank was still solid, his relations with the Reich were good his life-style was still secure, and because of his importance as a banker as long as he continued to be useful to the Party, no one would disturb his children, or him.

When Ariana and Gerhard had reached the age when participation in a youth group was expected, it was quietly explained that Gerhard was having trouble with his studies, had a touch of asthma, and was agonizingly shy around children his own age. Ever since the death of his mother' of course you understand' and Ariana ' we're not at all sure she will ever recover from the shock. A noble widower of aristocratic background his two young children, and a bank. One needed nothing more to survive in Germany, except the patience to endure, the wisdom to be quiet, the willingness to be blind and mute.

He still remembered Ariana's horror when she had gone to see her mother's furrier one day three years after her mother's death. When she was a little girl, Rothmann, the furrier, had always given her hot chocolate and cookies, now and then some small mink tails. But when she had gone to find him, she had found instead a dozen men with armbands standing guard outside the store. It was dark and empty, the marquee torn, the windows smashed, the huge, luxurious emporium empty, and on the windows one single word Juden.

Ariana had run to her father's bank crying, and he had shut the door and been firm, You must tell no one, Ariana! No one! You must not discuss it or ask questions. Tell no one what you saw!

She had stared at him in confusion. But other people saw it, too. The soldiers, they were all standing outside with guns, and the window ' and, Papa ' , I know it I saw blood!

You saw nothing, Ariana. You were never there.

But

Silence! You had lunch today with me, in the Tiergarten, and then we came back to the bank. We sat in here for a while, you drank a cup of hot chocolate, and then the chauffeur drove you home. Is that quite clear? She had never seen him like that, and she didn't understand. Was it possible that her father was frightened? They couldn't touch him. He was an important banker. And besides, Papa wasn't Jewish. But where had they taken Rothmann? And what would happen to his store? Do you understand me, Ariana? Her father's voice had been raised harshly, almost angrily, yet she had sensed that he was not angry at her.

I understand. And then in a little voice that pierced their silence, But why?

Walmar von Gotthard sighed and sank back into his chair. It was a large, impressive office, an enormous desk, and across from him, despite the fact that she was twelve, Ariana looked so small. What could he tell her? How could he explain?

A year after that incident the worst had happened. In September war had come. Since then he had steered his own course with caution, but he knew that it had paid off. The children were safe and protected. Gerhard was twelve and a half now, and Ariana just sixteen. Very little had changed for them, and although the children always suspected that he hated Hitler, it was a suspicion they never discussed, not even with each other. It was dangerous to admit that one hated Hitler. Everyone knew that.

They still lived in the house in Grunewald, went to the same schools, attended the same church, but they seldom visited other people's homes. Walmar kept a tight rein on them for their own sake, he explained carefully, and it made sense to them. After all, the country was at war. Everywhere were uniforms, laughing soldiers, pretty girls, and at night they sometimes heard music when their neighbors gave large parties for officers and friends. In some ways, all over Berlin it was a time of gaiety beyond measure. In other ways the children knew that it was sad, too. Many of their friends' fathers were off fighting. Some of them had already lost fathers and brothers to the war. But for Ariana and Gerhard, despite other children's teasing, it was a relief to know that their father was too old. They had already lost their mother, they couldn't have borne to lose him, too.

But you're not too old for parties, Ariana had told Walmar with a waiflike smile. This was the spring of her sixteenth birthday, and she desperately wanted to attend her first ball. She was old enough to remember that while her mother was alive her parents had been very social. But in the seven years since her passing, Walmar had spent almost every waking moment either at his bank or at home in his rooms or with them playing cards. The life of balls and parties had ended when Kassandra took her own life. But the children knew very little of their mother. The facts of how and why their mother died were painful truths that Walmar had never shared. Well, Papa? Can we? Please? She had looked at him so pleadingly, and Walmar had smiled.

A ball? Now? During the war?

Oh, Papa, everyone else goes to parties. Even here in Grunewald they stay up all night. It was true even in their staid residential district, the carousing went on regularly into the wee hours.

Aren't you a little young for that?

Hardly. She had stared down her nose at him, looking oddly like his mother rather than her own. I'm sixteen.

At last, with the assistance of her brother, Ariana had prevailed, and now she stood there, like a princess in a fairy tale, wearing the white organdy dress Fr+nulein Hedwig's expert fingers had made.

You look so lovely, darling.

She smiled, childlike, at him, admiring the white tie and tails. So do you.

But Gerhard was still watching, and they heard him giggle from the top of the stairs. I think you both look silly. But he looked proud of them, too.

Go to bed, you monster. She shouted it gaily over her shoulder as she tripped lightly down the last flight of stairs.

The Hispano-Suiza had been replaced just before the war had come with a black and gray Rolls, and now it waited for them in the driveway, the elderly chauffeur standing beside the door. Ariana had a light wrap around her shoulders, and the white dress swirled around her as she swept into the car. The party was being held at the Opera House, and all the lights were blazing as the Von Gotthards approached. The broad boulevard looked as beautiful as ever; Unter den Linden had not been changed by the onset of war.

Walmar looked proudly at his daughter, sitting like a fairy princess at his side in the Rolls. Excited?

She nodded happily. Very. She was enchanted by the prospect of her first ball.

And it was even better than she had expected. The stairs leading into the Opera House had been carpeted in red, the main hall with it wondrous ceiling was ablaze with light. And everywhere around them were women in evening gowns and diamonds, while the men all wore uniforms and decorations or white tie and tails. For Walmar the only damper on the evening was the large red flag that hung before them with the black and white emblem of the Reich.

The music whispered at them softly, coming from the main hall, and around them swirled and eddied countless bodies bedecked, bemused, bejeweled. Ariana's eyes looked like two huge aquamarines in the delicate ivory face, her mouth a delicately carved ruby.

She shared the first dance with her father, and afterward he was quick to move her into the safe confines of a group of his friends. There were several familiar bankers clustered at a table near the floor where couples waltzed.

She had been chatting happily with them for some twenty minutes when Walmar became aware of a tall young man standing near them. He was watching Ariana with a look of interest and conversing quietly with a friend. Walmar turned his gaze away from the soldier and invited his daughter to dance with him again. It wasn't quite fair to do that, but he felt he had to postpone the inevitable for as long as he could. He had known when he had brought her that she would dance with other men. Yet the uniforms ' the uniforms ' it was unavoidable ' he could only pray that they would all think her far too young to have any great appeal.

But as Walmar and Ariana slowly circled the floor together, he knew that she would catch the eye of any man. She looked young and fresh and lovely, but more than that, there was a lure to Ariana, a quiet power that pulled at anyone who looked into those deep blue eyes. It was as though she had the answers to a secret. He had seen the reaction in his own friends. It was a quality that hypnotized most men. It was the quiet face, the gentle eyes, and then the sudden smile, like summer sunshine on a lake. There was a quality to Ariana that drew one, a magic and a spirit of which one wanted to know more, despite her youth. She was far smaller than her brother and still more delicately boned. The top of her head barely reached her father's shoulder, and her feet seemed to fly as they waltzed.