Power of the Sword - Smith Wilbur (читать книги онлайн регистрации .TXT) 📗
Please don't let it happen again! In her mind's eye she saw once again the burning aircraft, with the body of the man she loved, blackening and twisting and crisping; then the face was no longer Michael's but that of his only son, and Shasa's beautiful face burst open like a sausage held too close to the flames and the sweet young life juices burst from it.
.Please stop the car, Blaine, she whispered. I think I am going to be ill. With hard driving they could have reached Berlin that night, but in one of the smaller towns that they were passing through the streets were decorated for some sort of celebration, and Centaine asked and was told that it was the festival of the local patron saint.
Oh Blaine, let's stay over, she cried, and they joined in the festival.
That afternoon there was a procession. An effigy of the saint was paraded through the narrow cobbled streets, and a band followed it, with angelic little blond girls in national dress, and small boys in uniform.
Those are the Hitler Youth, Blaine explained. Something like old Baden-Powells Boy Scouts, but with a much stronger emphasis on German national aspirations and patriotism. After the parade there was torchlit dancing in the town square, and barrows serving foaming tankards of beer or glasses of Sekt, the German equivalent of champagne, and serving-girls with lace aprons and cheeks like ripe apples carrying over owing platters of rich food, pigs trotters and veal, smoked mackerel and cheeses.
They found a table at the corner of the square, and the revellers at the neighbouring tables called greetings and merry banter to them; and they drank beer and danced and beat time to the oom-pa-pa band with their beer mugs.
Then quite abruptly the atmosphere changed. The laughter around them became brittle and forced, and there was a wariness in the faces and eyes of revellers at the adjacent tables; the band began to play too loudly and the dancers became feverish in their exertions.
Four men had entered the square. They wore brown uniforms with cross-straps over the chest and the ubiquitous swastika arm-bands. Their brown cloth caps with rounded peaks were pulled low and their leather chin straps were down. Each of them carried a small wooden collection box with a slot in the lid and they spread out and went to each of the tables.
Everybody made a donation, but as they pushed their coins into the slot of the box, they avoided looking at the brown-uniformed collectors.
Their laughter was forced and nervous, and they looked into their tankards or at their own hands until the collectors had passed on to the next table, when they exchanged relieved glances.
Who are these people? Centaine asked innocently, making no attempt to hide her interest.
They are the SA, Blaine replied. Storm troopers, the bully boys of the National Socialist Party. Look at that one. The trooper he had chosen had the bland heavy face of a peasant, dull and brutal. Is it not remarkable that there are always people to do this type of work, the need finds the man. Let us pray that his is not the face of the new Germany. The storm trooper had noticed their unconcealed interest and he came directly to their table with that menacing deliberate swagger.
Papers! he said.
He wants our papers, Tara translated, and Blaine handed over his passport.
Ah! Foreign tourists. The storm trooper's manner changed. He smiled ingratiatingly and handed back Blaine's passport with a few pleasant words.
He says, welcome to the paradise of National Socialist Germany, Tara translated, and Blaine nodded.
He says, you will see how the German people are now happy and proud, and something else that I didn't catch. Tell him we hope that they will always be happy and proud. The trooper beamed and clicked the heels of his jackboots as he sprang to attention.
Heil Hitler! He gave the Nazi salute, and Mathilda Janine dissolved into helpless giggles.
I can't help it, she gasped as Blaine gave her a sharp look and a shake of the head. It just slays me when they do that., The storm troopers left the square, and they could feel the tension ease; the band slackened its frenetic beat and the dancers slowed down. People looked directly at one another and smiled naturally.
That night Centaine pulled the fat goose-down duvet up around her ears and snuggled into the curve of Blaine's arm.
Have you noticed, she asked, how the people here seemed caught between feverish laughter and nervous tears? Blaine was silent for a while and then he grunted, There is a smell in the air that troubles me, it seems to me that it is the stench of some deadly plague, and he shuddered slightly and drew her closer to him.
With the Daimler leading, they streamed down the wide white autobahn into the suburbs of the German capital.
So much water, so many canals and so many trees. The city's built on a series of canals, Tara explained.
Rivers trapped between the old terminal moraines that the east to west, How is it you always know everything? Shasa interrupted her, a touch of real exasperation under his teasing tone.
Unlike some I could name, I am actually literate, you know, she flashed back, and David winced theatrically.
Ouch, that hurt, and it wasn't even aimed at me. Very well, little Miss Know-it-all, Shasa challenged. If you are so clever, what does that sign say? He pointed ahead to a large white signboard beside the autobahn.
The lettering was in black, and Tara read it aloud.
It says: "Jews! Keep straight on! This road will take you back to Jerusalem, where you belong!" As she realized what she had said, she flushed with embarrassment and leaned forward to touch David's shoulder over the back of his seat.
Oh David, I'm so sorry. I should never have uttered such rot! David sat straight, staring ahead through the windscreen, and then after a few seconds he gave a thin little smile.
Welcome to Berlin, he whispered. The centre of Aryan civilization. Welcome to Berlin! Welcome to Berlin! The train that had brought them across half of Europe slid into the station, clouds of steam hissing from the vacuum brakes and the cries of greeting almost drowned by the beat of the band playing a rousing martial air.
Welcome to Berlin! The waiting crowd surged forward at the moment their coach came to a standstill, and Manfred De La Rey stepped down from the balcony to be surrounded by well-wishers, smiling happy faces and friendly handclasps, laughing girls and wreaths of flowers, shouted questions and popping flash bulbs.
The other athletes, all dressed like him in green blazers with gold piping, white slacks and shoes and Panama hats, were also surrounded and mobbed and it was some minutes before a loud voice rose above the hubbub.
Attention, please! May I have your attention. The band beat out a ruffle of drums while a tall man in a dark uniform and steelrimmed spectacles stepped forward.
First of all let me offer you the warm greetings of the Fahrer and the German people, and we welcome you to these the eleventh Olympic Games of the modern era. We know that you will represent the spirit and courage of the South African nation, and we wish you all success and many, many medals. Amidst clapping and laughing, the speaker held up his hands. There are motor vehicles waiting to take you to your quarters in the Olympic village, where you will find all preparations have been made to make your stay with us both memorable and enjoyable. Now it is my pleasant duty to introduce the young lady who will be your guide and your interpreter over the next few weeks. He beckoned to somebody in the crowd, and a young woman stepped out into the space beside him and turned to face the band of athletes. There was a collective sigh and hum of appreciation.
This is Heidi Kramer. She was tall and strong, but unmistakably feminine, with hips and bosom like an hour-glass, yet touched with a dancer's grace and a gymnast's poise. Her hair was the colour of the Kalahari dawn, Manfred thought, and her teeth when she smiled were perfect, their edges minutely serrated and translucent as fine bone china, but her eyes were beyond description, bluer and clearer than the high African sky at noon, and he knew without any hesitation that she was the most magnificent woman he had ever seen. At the thought he made a silent guilty apology to Sarah, but compared to this German Valkyrie, Sarah was a sweet little tabby cat beside a female leopard in her prime.
