Pegasus: A Novel Part 1

Pegasus.

by Danielle Steel.

Chapter 1.

It was already nightfall when the stable boys heard the horses approaching. Their hooves sounded thunderous like a distant drumbeat, long before the uninitiated would have known what it was. The riders were returning from the hunt, and minutes later the boys could hear the voices calling out, the laughter, the horses snorting as they brought in their riders. When they entered the courtyard of Schloss Altenberg and approached the stables, it was obvious they were in high spirits and it had been a good hunt. One of the earliest arrivals said the hounds had gotten the fox, which they'd expected, as the horses pranced around, still excited from the exhilarating day. Riders and mounts alike had enjoyed the cold October weather, and the men in "pinks," their scarlet riding jackets, with white jodhpurs and tall black boots, looked like a portrait as they dismounted and handed the reins of their horses to the stable boys, who helped several women dismount too. A number of them were riding sidesaddle, which looked very elegant, but was no mean feat on a hunt. The group that had gone out that day had been riding together for all the years they had known one another and were old enough to hunt. For all of them, horses were their pa.s.sion, and riding their favorite sport.

Alex von Hemmerle was known to be one of the finest riders in the county, and had been breeding extraordinary horses since he was barely more than a boy. Everything in his life was born of tradition, which was true for all of them. There were no newcomers or surprises here. The same families had inhabited the area for centuries, visiting each other, following long-established rituals and traditions, intermarrying, running their estates, and cheris.h.i.+ng their land. Alex had grown up in Schloss Altenberg, as generations of his ancestors had, since the fourteenth century. He held a ball there at Christmas, as all his forebears had done. It was the most glamorous event in the county, and everyone looked forward to it every year. His daughter Marianne had been his hostess for the first time the year before, when she turned sixteen.

Now seventeen, Marianne had the same striking ethereal beauty her mother had had, with finely chiseled features. She was tall like Alex, with almost translucent porcelain skin, her mother's nearly white blond hair, and her father's electric blue eyes. She was one of the most beautiful young women in the region and as famous a rider as he was. He had put her on horseback before she could walk, and she went on every hunt, so she had been furious not to go with him that day, but she had a bad cold and a fever, and he had insisted she stay home. She was st.u.r.dier than she looked, despite her delicate beauty, unlike her mother, who had been far more fragile, and had died from blood loss and a severe infection the day after Marianne was born. It was not unusual for women to die in childbirth, but losing her had marked Alex severely. There had never been an important woman for him since. And although he had discreet dalliances in the county occasionally, his daughter was the only woman he truly loved now, and he had had no desire to remarry since his wife Annaliese's death, and knew he never would. They had been distant cousins and childhood sweethearts, although he was several years older. He had never expected to find himself widowed at thirty, but in the seventeen years since he'd lost her, his life with his daughter and his friends was all he wanted, and he always warned the women he saw quietly not to expect anything permanent from him.

Running his vast estate kept him busy, and breeding the Lipizzaner horses he was so proud of filled his life nearly as much as his daughter, and she shared his pa.s.sion for them. She loved admiring the new foals and watching her father train them. His snow-white Lipizzaners were said to be the finest, and the easiest to train, and his bloodlines the purest. He was rigorous about which stallions he used for breeding, and which mares he chose to reproduce, and he had taught Marianne all about them since she was a little girl.

She had been to the Spanish Riding School in Vienna with her father often, and thought their rigorous precision exercises looked like ballet, as she watched the splendid white horses dance and go through their incredibly intricate paces. She held her breath as she watched them prance on their hind legs in the "capriole" or "courbette" or leap into the air in the "croupade," with all four legs tucked under their bodies. It thrilled her every time she saw it, just as it did Alex. And he had trained some of his horses in these exercises as well. Marianne wished that she could become a rider at the school, and she was capable enough to do it, but the Spanish Riding School did not accept women, and her father said they never would. So she was content to see her father's horses perform at home or in Vienna and help him train them before they left. Once in a great while, he allowed her to ride them, but very seldom. But he did allow her to ride any of the Arabian horses he kept in his stables and bred as well. Her riding skill was instinctive, and she had grown up with some of the finest horses in Germany, and learned everything her father taught her. Horses were in her blood just as they were in his.

"Good hunt today," Alex commented, looking happy and relaxed as he and his good friend Nicolas von Bingen threaded their way through the other riders, who were chatting animatedly in the courtyard. They were in no hurry, even after the long ride. It had grown bitter cold as night fell, and the ground had been hard, but nothing stopped them, since all of them had good mounts, though perhaps not quite as fine as their host's. Nicolas had been riding a new Arabian stallion that Alex had lent him and had found him an excellent ride.

"I might like to buy him from you," Nicolas said, and Alex laughed.

"He's not for sale. Besides, I promised him to Marianne, after I train him for a while. He's still a bit rough."

"He suits me that way," Nicolas said, smiling at his boyhood friend. "Besides, he's too much horse for her." He liked his horses lively and a challenge to control.

"Don't tell her that!" Alex said, smiling. Marianne would never have tolerated an insult like that, and her father wasn't sure that was true. She was a better rider than Nick, although Alex would never have dared say that to him. Nick was a little overly zealous with his horses at times, and Marianne had gentler, better hands. He had taught her himself, with exceedingly good results.

"Where was she today, by the way? I don't think I've ever seen her miss a hunt," Nick commented, surprised that she hadn't come along. She was a familiar sight at their hunts, and always welcome with her father's friends.

"She's sick. I nearly had to tie her to her bed to keep her home. You're quite right, she never misses a hunt," Alex said with a worried look.

"Nothing serious, I hope." Nick's eyes were instantly concerned.

"She has a bad cold and a fever. The doctor came around last night. I was afraid it was going to her lungs. He ordered her to stay at home. I knew my word wouldn't suffice, and I didn't think his would impress her either, but I think she was feeling worse than she wanted to admit. She was asleep when I left this morning, which is very unlike her."

"Should you have the doctor back tonight?" Nick had had his own bad experiences with influenza, and had lost his wife and four-year-old daughter to it five years before, after an epidemic in the county and a particularly hard winter. He had been devastated to lose them both, and like Alex, he was widowed now, in his case with two sons, Tobias and Lucas. Tobias had been ten when his mother and sister died and still remembered them both, and Lucas was only six now, and had been barely more than a baby when they died. Tobias was a quiet, gentle boy, who wors.h.i.+pped Marianne, who was two years older. And Lucas was a lively, mischievous child, full of fun, and happy wherever he was, particularly if it was on a horse. Tobias was far more like his much gentler mother, and Lucas had all the energy and fire of his father. Nick had gotten up to all kinds of misadventures when he was younger, and was still the talk of the county at times, when he started an affair with some woman, occasionally even married ones, or took a bet racing a horse at breakneck speeds. He was an extremely competent rider, though not of Alex's superlative skill. He had never had the patience to train a horse the way Alex did, although he was fascinated with Alex's Lipizzaners, and what he was able to do with them. Even before they left for the Spanish Riding School, Alex had already begun to train them in the intricate figures for which the beautiful white horses were famous.

"Do you have a minute?" Alex asked him as they walked past the stables. The others slowly began to disperse and called out their goodnights when they got into their cars.

"I'm in no rush to get home," Nicolas said, smiling casually, as the two men strolled toward the barn. They had been friends since their childhood, although Alex was four years older, and they had gone to boarding school in England together when they were young. Alex had been the better student, and Nick had had far more fun, which was still the case. Nicolas von Bingen enjoyed everything about his life. He was a good friend and a good father, and a kind person, although Alex knew he was a little too fun-loving and irresponsible at times. Widowhood had only dampened him a little, and for now he was not yet burdened with running his estate. His father was still alive and very much in control, which left Nick a considerable amount of time to play, unlike Alex, who had run his own estate and fortune since his early twenties, when his father died. In many ways, Nick still acted like a boy, while Alex had been very much a man for more than two decades. But they complemented each other and were more like brothers than friends.

Nick followed Alex into the barn, and Alex led him to an immaculately kept stall where one of his finest Lipizzaner mares was nursing a foal she had given birth to only days before. The coal-black foal was standing unsteadily on its legs as the mare looked at them both with her big dark eyes. Nick knew that Lipizzaner foals were born dark brown or black, so he wasn't surprised by its color, as it stood in sharp contrast to its snow-white mother. He knew it would take five or six years for its coat to turn white, just as he knew it would be ten years old before it was fully trained. The foal would spend four years with Alex, and six at the school in Vienna. The training of the remarkable Lipizzaners happened over long, careful, diligent, and meticulous years.

"He's a beauty, isn't he?" Alex said proudly. "One of the best I've seen. He was sired by Pluto Petra"-who Nick knew was Alex's finest stallion, whom he used to breed-"and this little mare did very well. I'm going to have fun training him." He looked as proud of the newborn horse as any father, and Nick smiled at him.

"You're a wonder," Nick said affectionately, as the two men walked out of the barn together. Alex would have asked Nick to join him for dinner, but he wanted to have dinner with Marianne in her room.

"Do you want to ride with me tomorrow to the north border?" Alex asked him. "I'm thinking of clearing some of my forests. I thought I'd take a look. I want to get an early start, and be back at noon. We can have lunch after our ride."

"I'd love to," Nick said regretfully, as he stopped at the Duesenberg he had left parked under a tree. He much preferred his Bugatti, but had decided to be more respectable when he came to join Alex for the hunt. "I can't, though. I have to meet my father. There's something he wants to talk to me about. I can't for the life of me think what it is. I haven't done anything to annoy him in weeks." They both laughed at what he said. Nick enjoyed a close relations.h.i.+p with his father, although his father frequently scolded him over rumors he had heard, of Nick's womanizing, or his galloping around, or driving at insane speeds. Above all, Paul von Bingen was always trying to get Nick involved in the running of the estate. He a.s.sumed that that was what his father wanted to discuss with him the next day. It was a recurring theme. "I think he wants me to take over managing the farms, which sounds like dreadful work to me."

"You'll have to do it one day. You might as well start now," Alex said sensibly.

They still had farmers on their land who had been indentured servants, and now rented their farms from him for pennies. But they were a necessary part of the system, and the traditions that had ruled them all for years. They weren't really part of the modern world, but living here in the countryside allowed them a tranquil life away from the cities. Germany had been troubled for years, since the chaos and poor economy after the Great War, and the Depression. The economy had improved under Hitler, but the country's problems weren't over yet. Hitler had tried to give Germans a sense of pride again, but his fervent speeches and rallies at fever pitch didn't appeal to Alex or Nick. Alex thought he was a troublemaker, and had a strong dislike for most of his ideas, and his annexing Austria in March was a disturbing sign of his ambitions. But whatever Hitler was doing seemed very remote to them here in their peaceful Bavarian countryside. Nothing could touch them here, and nothing ever changed. Their families had been in the area for centuries, and would be, doing the same things, in another two hundred years. They were insulated from the world. And both men were comfortable knowing that their children and great-grandchildren would still be here one day.

Alex and Nick had been brought up to be n.o.blemen, and very little else. They had been blessed with enormous fortunes, which they never discussed and rarely if ever thought about. They had tenant farmers and servants, and vast estates, which in turn would pa.s.s on to their children, in a totally protected life and world.

"I don't see why I should take on the farms now," Nick said, as he slipped his long legs into the Duesenberg and looked at his friend. "My father is going to live for another thirty years, and he does it far better than I ever will," he commented with a wry smile. "Why should I screw it up now? I'd much rather do something else. Like ride with you tomorrow morning, but my father will be upset if I don't at least pretend to listen to him." Nick knew all of his speeches by heart, chapter and verse.

"You're shameless," Alex chided him, but he was also aware that Nick was more responsible than he let on. He was wonderful with his boys, and had vastly improved the lot of his tenant farmers, using his own funds to improve their homes. He cared about them as people, but he just didn't want to be responsible for their land and farms, which he found incredibly tedious and thought his father seemed to enjoy. Nick was more interested in the welfare of those less fortunate than he, and bringing up his boys, with whom he spent a great deal of time, just as Alex did with Marianne. They had in common that they were both devoted fathers and family men, steeped in the traditions of their familiar world.

"Sorry I can't ride with you tomorrow," Nick said regretfully as he started the car. "I'll come by after lunch and watch you train that stallion of yours." Nick had been watching Alex work with the young Lipizzaner for months, and was as always in awe of his skill.

"I still have so much work to do with him. I promised him to the riding school in January. He's the right age, but I don't think he's ready yet." The four-year-old stallion showed a lot of spirit, and Nick never got bored watching Alex take him through his paces. The Lipizzaner stallion would have impressed anyone just as he was, except Alex, who was a perfectionist and rarely satisfied with his results. "Come over whenever you want," Alex invited him, and a few minutes later, Nick drove off with a jaunty wave and headed toward his own estate a few miles away, as Alex walked back into the schloss, to visit his daughter and see how she was.

Marianne was lying in bed, looking bored with a book, and she still appeared feverish but better than she had the night before. He touched her forehead with a gentle hand, and was relieved to find her cooler, although her eyes were still dull and her nose was red.

"How do you feel?" he asked, as he sat down next to her on the bed.

"Stupid for lying here. Did you have fun at the hunt? Did they get the fox?" Her eyes lit up as she asked him. She had thought about everyone hunting all day.

"Of course. It wasn't nearly as much fun without you, but I'm happy you stayed home. It was freezing today. We're going to have a hard winter, if it's cold as early as this."

"Good. I like it when it snows." She was happy to see him. "Toby came to see me today." She brightened a little, speaking of Nick's son. He came to visit all the time and wors.h.i.+pped her. He'd had a crush on her for years, and she treated him like a little brother. Toby could hardly wait for the day when he could pursue her, and she'd take him seriously. Marianne knew that day would never come. "Don't tell his father he was here. You know how Nick is when anyone is sick." He had been nervous about illness ever since his wife and daughter had died of influenza, and he was particularly cautious about his sons. "We played chess. I beat him," she said happily as her father smiled at her.

"You should be nicer to him. He thinks the sun rises and sets on you."

"That's just because he doesn't know any other girls." She was completely unaware of her beauty, and her effect on men. Several young men, and even their fathers, had been looking longingly at her for the past few years, and Alex was relieved that it never turned her head. She was much more interested in her father's horses, and spending time with him, than she was in men. There was a childlike innocence about her still, which touched his heart. He couldn't bear the thought of parting with her one day if she got married and moved away. But even if she did, he knew she wouldn't go far.

Marianne attended the local school, with the children of other n.o.ble families, and she had no interest in going to university in another city, particularly now that there was so much unrest and disruption in the cities and towns. His own father had insisted that he attend university in Heidelberg, and he had been happy to come home again, to what he thought was the most beautiful place on earth. And Alex was relieved that Marianne agreed with him about it. Sometimes he felt guilty for depriving her of a bigger life, but with turmoil around the country, she was better off here. He liked keeping her close to him, where he knew she was safe.

"Can I have dinner with you downstairs, Papa?" she asked, ready to get out of bed, although she was still pale, and Alex shook his head with a stern expression.

"No, you're not well enough yet. And it's drafty downstairs. I asked them to bring us trays here. Marta will be upstairs with them in a minute. I want you to get well so you can come and see the new foal in the barn. He's a beauty, even better looking than his father. I took Nick to see him after the hunt. You can come and watch me work with Pluto tomorrow if you like. He's doing well." Her father gave her the latest report, and Marianne sank back into her pillows with a sigh, and he could see she didn't feel as well as she claimed. He was greatly relieved that she hadn't gone out that day. It would have been madness if she had, but she was stubborn enough to try.

Marta and one of the hous.e.m.e.n came in a few minutes later, with their dinner on trays, and her father let her get up and sit next to the fire, wrapped in a blanket, while he told her all about the hunt. She looked tired afterward when she went back to bed, but she was cool when he felt her cheek and kissed her.

"Goodnight, my angel," he said, smiling at her, as she looked at him with gentle eyes.

"I'm the luckiest girl in the world, to have a father like you," she said softly, and he melted at her words. He felt the same way about her. And then she thought of something she had forgotten to tell him at dinner. "I listened to the radio today, and there was some kind of rally in Berlin. You could hear the soldiers marching in precision, and they sang a lot of songs that sounded like there was a war on. The Fuehrer made a speech asking everyone to pledge loyalty to him. It scared me.... Do you think there will ever be a war, Papa?" She looked young and innocent as she asked. Hitler had convinced everyone that occupying Austria would avoid a war, and that "lebensraum," annexing Austria, would be enough.

"No, I don't," he said rea.s.suringly, although Hitler had mobilized the military two months before. "I don't think it's as dangerous as it sounds. And nothing will touch us here. Sleep tight, my darling ... sweet dreams. I hope you feel better in the morning. But I still want you to stay home from school for a few days. You can keep me company in the barn."

She smiled as he left the room and she felt better after what he'd said. As she listened to the Fuehrer's speech that afternoon, she had felt a chill of fear, as though the whole world were about to change. Hitler had said it would, on the radio. But she was sure her father was right. Their leader was just speaking to the ma.s.ses to excite and inspire them. It had nothing to do with them here at home. She fell asleep thinking about their Christmas ball, and how much fun it was going to be. She had to start planning for it, it was only two months away. And Nick had said that Toby could come this year for the first time. He had told her that day that he was going to get his first tailcoat and top hat, and she had laughed at him. He was a handsome boy, but he still seemed like a child to her. She felt like one herself, as she drifted off to sleep. She could hardly wait to see the inky black Lipizzaner foal in the barn. She remembered the first time she had seen one and had been so shocked it wasn't white. And then it had grown up to be a beautiful snowy creature like the others that seemed to dance in midair. She was dreaming about her father's Lipizzaners as she fell asleep. They were magical beings in a perfect world. A world where she knew that nothing bad could ever touch her, and just as her father said, she would always be safe.

Chapter 2.

In the morning, Nick drove his bright blue Bugatti to the large manor house where his father lived on their estate. He had moved there when Nick married, and he had given Nick and his wife the use of the schloss, as he thought was fitting for his son and his bride. He'd been urging Nick to run the estate then, and he was still trying to get him to do so, without success. Nick was perfectly content to visit their tenants, spend time with his friends, and tend to his sons, which he claimed was full-time work, since they had no mother to take care of them now. Paul von Bingen was pleased that his son was so attentive to his children, but he would have liked to see him more interested in their land, and learning how to manage it himself one day. At forty-three, Nick was convinced that that time was so far off that he had years to learn what he needed to know. Nick still felt like a young man. His father was sixty-five and always seemed younger than he was as well. Paul von Bingen was still a handsome, vital man, but Nick noticed that his father didn't look well today. He appeared tired and pale and was frowning when Nick strode into the library, greeted his father and sat down in a chair near his desk.

"Are you well, Father?" Nick asked with concern.

"I am," Paul said, sitting at his desk, and gazing at his son with a somber expression, and then he got up and closed the door. Nick could tell it was going to be a serious discussion, possibly even a lecture, from the look on his father's face. He was sorry he hadn't gone riding with Alex instead. This wasn't going to be fun, but periodically he had to subject himself to his father's speeches about responsibility and obligation and what duty and their heritage required of them. Nick knew the main themes of the sermon by heart, and braced himself for what was about to come. His father sat down at his desk again and seemed to be weighing his words, which was unusual for him. Ordinarily, he launched right into a well-rehea.r.s.ed list of what Nick should be doing and wasn't. Nick had been hearing it for twenty years, and waited patiently for him to start.

"I want to tell you about some things I've never discussed with you before," Paul began in a measured tone, and Nick glanced at him in surprise. This was new, and he couldn't imagine what it was. "I was very much like you when I was young. Actually I was a great deal wilder than you are, or ever were. You seem to have a fondness for pretty women and fast cars, but there's no harm in that, I suppose. And you're a wonderful father, and a devoted son."

"So are you a wonderful father, Papa," Nick interrupted him with a loving look in his eyes. "And you're very patient about my not wanting to run the estate. I just think you do it better than I ever will, and it would be a shame to have me make a botch of it, if I took it over from you now." His father smiled with a wintry expression that Nick had never seen before. Something was different today and he had no idea what it was. There was a sense of sadness around his father that frightened him. He hoped he wasn't sick. He was growing increasingly worried as he watched his father grope for words. "Is something wrong?" He cut to the chase, and his father didn't answer, which was unlike him as well.

"When I was twenty-one," Paul went on, avoiding Nick's eyes, "I met your mother. I was twenty-two when you were born. She was a very beautiful girl, and very young. She had dark hair and dark eyes like you, although other than that, you don't resemble her at all." Nick knew he was the portrait of his paternal grandfather, except for the dark hair. "She had very exotic looks, and I thought we were the same age. We had a brief and pa.s.sionate affair one summer when I had nothing else to do, and she got pregnant, almost immediately. Later, I discovered that she was just fifteen, and she was sixteen when she had you. Needless to say, my parents weren't pleased. And even less so, when they discovered who her parents were. Her father was one of our tenants, or actually, his cousin was. Her father had come from the city with his wife and children to work the farm with his cousin, which was why I'd never seen your mother before. I was besotted with her immediately. Their cousins, our tenants, had originally been our serfs, which my father found particularly unamusing. I insisted I was in love with her, and perhaps I was. I'm not sure that anyone knows what love is at that age, or what can happen as a result, all the ramifications and consequences and things that can go wrong. When she told me she was pregnant, I did what I thought was the right thing and married her in a small ceremony in the chapel on the estate, in utter disgrace with my parents. My father struck an agreement with hers. No one was ever to know that I had married her, and we agreed that when she gave birth to you, we would be divorced immediately afterward. My father was able to arrange it with an attorney in Munich. And she agreed to give up the child when it was born, which was part of the contract my father made with them.

"I went abroad for a year, to Spain and Italy. I had an extremely good time, although I felt bad about her. We were divorced as soon as you were born, as she had agreed, and they left the farm. She and her parents and brothers and sisters went back to the city, and my father bought the farm from their cousins for a very handsome price. After two hundred years on our land, they felt disgraced by what had happened and wanted to leave. I eventually returned from my travels, having allegedly married a young countess in Italy, who supposedly gave birth to you and died in childbed of a fever, which was common at the time. No one ever questioned the story when you appeared with me on my return, and everyone felt sorry for me. To be widowed so young and have a child on my hands. Your grandmother helped me take care of you, and no one ever knew the truth, except my parents, your mother and her family who were gone, the priest who married us, and the nurse who took care of you. And no one ever talked. I never saw your mother again, which was a dastardly thing to do. But I barely knew her, and you were the result of youthful l.u.s.t, a brief summer fling.

"And the only real love I felt was for you. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, and I never regretted having you for an instant. In fact, I think it turned me responsible early on, which was probably a good thing, since my own parents died when I was still relatively young, and I had to learn everything you've resisted learning all your life. I had no choice. I had a child, and a large estate to run, and I have done so for you, so that I can turn it all over to you in good order one day."

He looked bleak as he said it, and Nick could see that his father's confession was weighing heavy on his heart. What he didn't know was why he had chosen to tell him about his history now. Nick was trying to sort through what his father had said and what it meant to him. What shocked him most was hearing that the mother who Nick had always believed had died in childbirth, actually hadn't. And she wasn't an Italian n.o.blewoman, she was a young girl on one of their farms, the daughter of a farmer or their city cousin, but the impact of that hadn't hit him yet. Nick was more shocked to realize that his mother was probably still alive, particularly since she'd been so young when he was born.

"Are you telling me that my mother is still alive, and always was? Why are you announcing that to me now, Father?"

"Because you have to know. I had no other choice now but to tell you. And I don't know if she's still alive. I a.s.sume she is. She was told never to contact us again, and she hasn't. She was a decent girl, and she kept her word. I have no idea where they moved to, but I'm sure we could find out. I imagine she's still alive, she'd only be fifty-nine now, which isn't very old. And I'm very sorry to tell you all this. I never intended to tell you any of it."

He had even covered his tracks by saying that her family had blamed him for her death when she died and never wanted to see him or the child again. That had explained the absence of maternal grandparents in his life, which Nick had never questioned, and he had such a happy childhood that, although he missed having a mother, he had lacked for nothing and basked in his paternal grandparents' attention when they were alive, and most of all his father's, who could never do enough for his only son. Paul had never remarried, and Nick couldn't help but wonder why now, since he hadn't been mourning a child bride he had loved. Perhaps the circ.u.mstances had been so traumatic and distasteful, Nick imagined, that they had cured him forever of wanting to form a permanent attachment, although he knew his father had had several long relations.h.i.+ps that never led to marriage. He always said that the only family he needed or wanted was his son.

"Now that I think about it," Paul went on, "I vaguely recall hearing that she married a short time later. I think my father's attorney knew that, after he handled the divorce. I was relieved for her. I remember my father saying something about it, but I didn't pay attention. I had you, which was all I cared about by then. And if she did remarry, I'm sure she had other children. She was a lovely, healthy girl. But all I ever had or wanted is you." He and Nick exchanged a serious look, and neither man spoke for some time.

Nick was stunned by what his father had told him, and to realize that the father he had always believed would never lie, had told him nothing but lies about the circ.u.mstances surrounding his birth. It was a shock to learn that he had a mother somewhere who had probably sold him for a healthy sum. His father hadn't mentioned money, but it was obvious that that would have been part of the arrangement, to induce her and her father to agree to their terms to divorce and give up the child.

"What was her name?" Nick asked in a low voice, suddenly wondering what she looked like. There had never been any photographs or portraits of her anywhere, which his father had always said would have been too painful for him, and Nick had never questioned it for a moment, and respected his father's feelings about his "tragic loss."

"Hedwig Schmidt." Nick nodded as he felt the name carve itself into his brain. And then his father took a long breath and went on. "I am telling you this now because I had a visit two days ago from a man I haven't seen in years. We were friends as young men. He went to live in Indonesia, and I haven't seen him since. He's a general of the Wehrmacht now, and he came to see me as a favor. I don't know where or how he got it, but he had the record of my marriage, and the divorce, and he knew about you. People tell things nowadays that they never did before. There is information flying through the air all over Germany, in this very ill wind that is blowing from Berlin."

Paul looked hard at his son. "My friend Heinrich von Messing tells me that your mother was half Jewish. I didn't know it at the time, and it wouldn't have mattered to me. The circ.u.mstance of who she was was enough to make our marriage unsuitable, by reason of her birth. Her parents were cousins of our tenants, and apparently, according to my friend, her mother's family were Jews, which makes her half Jewish, and you a quarter Jewish, and your sons one-eighth. And according to Heinrich, being even part Jewish is very dangerous these days.

"We've all been well aware of that for several years, since the Nuremberg Laws." Jews had been defined as a separate race, and stripped of their citizens.h.i.+p. Since then, one hundred and twenty more laws had deprived them of further rights, and having any "non-Aryan" blood in one's ancestry had become a very bad thing. Paul had never imagined that the plight of Jews in Germany had anything to do with them, and now it had everything to do with them, and especially his son. The news had come as a shock to Paul.

Tears filled Paul's eyes as he went on, but he didn't move from his seat. He could see that Nick was already stunned by everything he had said. "He came to warn me, so that I could alert you. He said that someone has started a file on you, and your ancestry through your mother is known. This could be disastrous for you and your boys. It takes very little to tip the balance now. You and your children could be seized and sent away, and not allowed to remain here, or own property. Heinrich feels that to be safe, you and the boys must leave Germany at once. If not, with the dossier on you and your heritage, it's only a matter of time, and a very short time he believes, before the three of you will be sent to some kind of camp for *undesirables.' It is almost a crime now to be a Jew in Germany, and even being a quarter Jewish puts you and the boys at great risk. They have been using Dachau, near Munich, for *undesirables' of all kinds, which now applies to you and your children." Tears rolled down Paul's cheeks as he said it.

"Heinrich said it's going to get worse. I asked if I could speak on your behalf, or if we could get some kind of special dispensation when they go after one-quarter Jews, but he told me without question that anyone with any Jewish blood or ancestry is in danger in Germany." As he said it, Paul coughed to cover a sob that lodged in this throat like a fish bone. He looked as if his heart were about to break. "My darling son, you and your children must leave. Now. Soon. Before anything happens to you. According to Heinrich, there is no time to waste." There was an endless silence in the room as Paul's tears ran off his cheeks onto his desk. Neither of the two men moved as Nick stared at him, and it sank in.

"Are you serious? I have to leave? That's ridiculous. I'm not Jewish. My mother may have been, but you're not. I'm not. I didn't even know. And the boys are even less." Their mother had been Catholic and was related to a bishop.

"Not to them. Not to Hitler's government. If you have any Jewish blood at all, whatever religion you practice, you're a Jew," Paul said bitterly. "It's not about religion, it's about race, and you're not a pure-blood Aryan German in this country now."

"That's absurd." Nick stood up and walked around the room, unable to believe what he'd just heard. "I have nothing against the Jews, but I'm not one of them." Nick was dumbstruck.

"You are as far as they're concerned," Paul repeated. "I won't have you taken from your home and sent to a labor camp. My friend in the Wehrmacht said they could come here to take you away, and almost surely will, to make an example of you. They don't care who you are or how you're living-people of Jewish ancestry must go, or risk what will happen if they stay. And who knows what they'll do next. They're sending Jews to labor camps now and calling them a *criminal element,' in order to make it more acceptable to lock them up, along with h.o.m.os.e.xuals, Gypsies, and anyone else they don't want in Hitler's Germany. Jewish teachers cannot work, Jews are being eliminated from their businesses and fired from their jobs, they can't go to parks or swimming pools. Where do you think this will go next? You can still get a pa.s.sport to leave Germany, with special permission. You have to take the boys and go while you still can, before it gets worse." And now Paul was beginning to believe it would. He spoke to Nick with a tone of urgency.

"How much worse can it get?" Nick said, skeptical. "We are respectable people, Papa. You own one of the biggest estates in Germany. We come from one of the oldest families," Nick argued with him with a look of desperation. He was fighting for his right to stay in the only place he knew that was home.

Paul said miserably, "As far as they're concerned, a half-Jewish mother cancels out the rest. They don't care how old or honorable our family is, by ancestry, you are Jewish, even if you don't agree. And Jews are no longer welcome here, that is precisely what the general said. He took a great risk himself in coming here to warn us. He said that your file has already crossed someone's desk in Berlin. They are checking all the old families, all the town records, marriages, births, they are systematically looking for Jews. He said we have to move quickly. They could come here in a matter of weeks."

"What am I supposed to do?" Nick nearly shouted at him, but there was no one to shout at, no one to rail at but the fates. Because of a mother he had never known, or even knew existed, Nick and his sons would have to leave their home and flee. "What do I have to do? Run away?"

Paul looked at him with heartbreak in his eyes and nodded. "Yes. Heinrich said that people are leaving for America, if they can get sponsors and jobs, which isn't easy. I made a list of people I know there, but I don't know if they'd be willing to help. I want to write to the headmaster of your school in England-perhaps he can a.s.sist us. We have to reach out to everyone we know, to get you out of here. But to do that, you have to have a job."

"And what will I do, Papa? Be a chauffeur? I don't know how to work." He felt like a fool saying it, but they both knew it was true. The world he lived in and their circ.u.mstances didn't require him to work, or to know how to do anything productive. He hadn't even learned the little he should, to manage his own land.

"Perhaps you could work in a bank," Paul said hopefully. "You can't take more than a certain amount of money with you. They don't want any large fortunes leaving Germany. I'll give you whatever I can." Paul looked distressed. He had thought of the same things himself. "You have to be able to take care of the boys."

"Nothing in my life has ever prepared me for this," Nick said, with a tone of desperation. "We're brought up to do nothing except ride horses and drive cars, be civil at dinner parties and dance at b.a.l.l.s. What part of that would make me eligible for a job?"

"We'll have to think of one quickly. There's no time to waste. You could teach German once you got there. You speak English well-it's why I want to write to your headmaster. Perhaps he could get you a job in a school, in England or the States. It's a respectable profession and it would feed you and the boys."

"And what am I supposed to tell my children?" He couldn't imagine what to say, it was all so convoluted, so ridiculous, and so sick. Toby wouldn't understand it at fifteen, and Lucas even less at six. He didn't understand it himself. "That we have to leave Germany because we're considered criminals? My sons don't even know what a Jew is. And I'm supposed to tell them that because a lunatic is running Germany, we're now being forced to leave home, to go to a place where we have nothing and know no one. Papa, this is insane."

"Yes, it is," Paul agreed, "and when things calm down, which I'm sure they will eventually, you can come back, but for now you have to leave. Heinrich made that very clear to me, and I believe him. You have no other option. I'll write the letters, and you need to think if there is anyone you know who can help, either sponsor you or give you a job." Nick sat down in silence again for a moment, dumbstruck by all he'd heard. And Paul was surprised by what he said.

"The men I went to school with in England do the same thing we do. Hunt, ride horses, and manage their estates. They don't have jobs. And I'd like to try to meet my mother, at least once. Even if she wants nothing to do with me, I'd like to see who she is." It suddenly mattered to him, although he wasn't sure why. He was curious about the mother who had given him up at birth. And since she was probably still alive, he wanted to see her face.

"I understand. I'll help you do that." Paul looked as though he meant it, although he wasn't happy about it. She had been gone for forty-three years, and he had no desire himself to exhume her from the past. But they had more important things to tend to first, than satisfy Nick's curiosity about his mother. "We have no time to waste now. We have to get you and the boys out of Germany as soon as we can." Neither of them could think of a way to do that yet, but they knew they had to find a plan. Nick and the boys' lives depended on it, or their well-being certainly. Nick was horrified at the idea of going to a labor camp with his sons, and Paul couldn't think of anything worse, although his friend the general had hinted that that might only be the first step, and there could be worse to come, and he didn't want that happening to them. The general paying Paul a visit to warn him had been an immeasurable gift. Paul shuddered now, thinking of what might have happened if he hadn't come. They would have been taken by surprise, and Nick and the boys would be gone.

"Let's talk about this later," Nick said with a look of distress. "I need some air."

"Where are you going?" his father asked, panicked, fearing what Nick would do next.

"To Altenberg, to see Alex." As always, in times of unhappiness or joy, he wanted to see his friend.

"Are you going to tell him?" Paul was worried.

"I don't know. I just want to be there for a while. Of course I'll tell him when I leave. And I need to think about who to write to and where to start. I don't know anyone in the States." It might as well have been on another planet, and he couldn't see himself teaching at a school in England. He couldn't imagine leaving Germany at all. To where? To do what?

"I know some people in the States," Paul said quietly. "I will write them all letters asking them to sponsor you and the boys, and give you a job."

"I can work as a stable boy, or a dance instructor," Nick said ruefully, and he was only half-joking. They were among the few things he knew how to do. He hadn't tended to his own horses since he was a boy himself, but he knew he could.

"I'll try to get you something better than that," his father said sadly, horrified by the situation they were in. He was willing to do anything to save his son and grandchildren.

A few minutes later, Nick drove away in his Bugatti, and both men were lost in thought. As he drove the beautiful sports car, Nick realized that life as he knew it was about to end, for years if not forever. And Paul was trying to adjust to the idea that he was about to lose his entire family and be separated from everyone he held dear. He thought of going with them, but he couldn't abandon the estate. He had a duty to be there for the land and their tenants, and to uphold his heritage and everything he had been brought up to respect. And he felt too old to go. The last thing Nick needed now was an old man on his hands to worry about. He would have enough to do with his boys. Paul knew he had to stay here. But Nick and the boys had to leave. Soon.

When Nick got to Altenberg, he parked his car and walked to the stables, and found Alex already working with Pluto. He was driving him hard through his paces, making him switch directions with split-second timing, and training him to stand motionless on his hind legs, which was called a "levade" and was something Lipizzaners were born to do. Nick noticed that Pluto had improved remarkably in recent weeks, since he had last seen Alex practicing with him. The result of hours of training was extremely good. Pluto was a natural performer, and he would do well when he left for Vienna in a few months, although Alex still wasn't satisfied. Alex waved when he saw Nick perch himself on the fence to watch his friend and the Lipizzaner at work.