The Star of Kazan (39 page)

She went on anxiously questioning them, but they would say no more and left again without saying goodbye to Hermann.

‘I knew the Freiherr,’ said the captain as he climbed into the coach. ‘This would have been a sad day for him.’

She found Hermann on the terrace, staring sightlessly at the lake.

‘Hermann, I can’t believe this. You wanted nothing except to be a soldier, all your life.’

Hermann turned his head. There were dark circles under his eyes and he was very thin. ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ he said.

‘But, Hermann . . . do you mean you want to stay at home and look after the estate? If you do, maybe we could—’

‘No, I don’t want to do that. I want to be a painter.’

Edeltraut was completely at a loss. ‘You want to paint houses?’

Hermann sighed. ‘No, Mother. I want to paint pictures. I want to go to Paris and study to be a great painter. Karl-Gottlieb is going to live there. You remember KarlGottlieb? He wrote and told me what kind of tooth mugs I had to bring to St Xavier’s. He was the only one who tried to help me.’ Hermann faltered, then went on in a low voice. ‘When I first came the other boys pushed me on to the ledge outside the dormitory window and shut me out. It was very narrow and very high up – three floors. You had to stand there all night and not make a sound. It was a test . . . an initiation. But after a few hours I got giddy and I was sure I was going to fall . . . and I called out and shouted, and a teacher came and let me in again. After that none of the boys would speak to me. Except for KarlGottlieb. Then he ran away. Even though his father’s a field marshal and very high up. When he’d gone they used to hang me from the hooks on the cloakroom wall and pretend to charge me with their bayonets.’ Hermann’s voice shook.

Edeltraut tried to take this in. She had thought of anything except that her son would turn out to be a coward. ‘You’re being quite ridiculous, Hermann. No von Tannenberg has ever been a painter.’

‘Then I will be the first. Karl-Gottlieb has a sister who has a studio in Paris – she’s very modern – and she would help us. We think we could find some more people to join us and then we could become a famous group of artists.’

‘Hermann, you’re mad. There have always been von Tannenbergs at Spittal. Always.’

‘Yes, I know. But if you sold Spittal there would be enough money to pay for our painting lessons, and you could come and have a flat near us. We’d let you attend our exhibitions and everything.’

Edletraut tried to gather herself together. ‘My poor boy, you have lost your reason. There have been von Tannenbergs at Spittal since—’

Hermann put a hand on her arm. ‘I know, Mother,’ he said patiently, and she saw that a little colour had returned to his face. ‘I know there have always been von Tannenbergs at Spittal. But that doesn’t mean that there have to
go on
being von Tannenbergs at Spittal. You must see that. Karl-Gottlieb says there have been von Tannenbergs at Spittal for long enough, and I
entirely
agree with him.’

Three weeks later, Annika came downstairs to find a letter from Gudrun, who wanted Annika to send her some more kerchiefs like the one she’d give her at Felsenheim and a snood for her hair.

There has been a terrible row here
, she wrote
. Hermann came home – he’s been expelled and he’s going to Paris and Aunt Edeltraut is going with him. She tried to make my father come too, but he said there was nothing to shoot in Paris except people so he’s staying with us. Mama won’t speak to Aunt Edeltraut ever again, she says, because of trying to take away her husband and also because she thought you really were her niece and she had got fond of you, though I can’t see how Aunt Edeltraut could have known that they gave her the wrong birth certificate.

Spittal has been sold to a man who makes saucepans. He made Aunt Edeltraut sell him the family crest too, the one about ‘Stand Aside, Ye Vermin Who Oppose Us’, because there are people who pretend to make better saucepans than him and they are vermin, he said.

He’s very rich and has a son who is a bit older than me. Of course I couldn’t ever marry anybody who is lowly born – at least I don’t think I could – but he is very handsome. I suppose you couldn’t send me a lace collar like the one you had on your brown velvet dress as well? We don’t seem to have any money for clothes again, but Papa says we won’t have to dig a bear pit, at least not yet.

With best wishes
,

Gudrun.

T
he arcaded palace of a prince, now the royal stables, was lit by pools of light from the gas lamps on the walls. From the chapel further down the road came the sound of the Vienna choirboys singing vespers.

There was the smell of straw, of saddle soap . . .

A lone dark horse was walking down the well-worn path towards the great double door, which opened now from the inside. The boy leading the horse walked steadily on, but just before he reached the door he turned and waved.

The people clustered on the pavement waved back. They waved back hard. A row of little boys, silent for once because the occasion was so important. A girl with frizzy hair who was frowning because it had all become rather solemn and after all a horse is just a horse. A lady to whose long black skirt there clung the fragments of a buttered roll.

Annika had been pushed forward to the place of honour, closest by the gate. Her eyes followed every step that Zed took, but in some other part of her mind she was waking up on that first morning in Spittal when an unknown boy had ridden past her window, and she had known that both the boy and his horse would become part of her life.

Inside the stables a horse whinnied his welcome and Rocco replied. Then Zed led him forward over the threshold – and the great door closed on them both.

For a moment there was no sound except the singing of the boys in the little church.

Then, ‘I’m hungry,’ said Hansi – and Ellie nodded, and they all went home.