The Luck of the Weissensteiners (The Three Nations Trilogy) (32 page)

“I will have to speak to Johanna and leave word with her,” he said. “When Egon comes he won't leave the area without askin
g her what she knows about us.”

“I will go and tell her. It is safer for me. What do you want me to tell her to tell him?” she asked.

“Tell her I plan to come back to Bratislava after the fighting has stopped and that he should stay in Bratislava or leave a message for you with Johanna.”

“Good, I will do that. Now while I am gone I need you to get everyone ready.”

Jonah and his family had only taken the bare essentials with them to their hiding place in the basement and so their packing was a matter of minutes rather than hours. Edith and Esther on the other hand had rather large amounts of clothing, jewellery and some artefacts and took a long time deciding what to leave behind.

The Countess had organised two horse d
rawn carriages, one which was a very old fashioned closed cabin carriage with little space for luggage as it was designed for luxurious but short term travel. The layout was similar to the fiacres of Vienna, the horse drawn cabs named after Saint Fiacre, although it lacked the ostentatious style and glamour that those were famous for. Its appearance however did imply wealth and so valuables were not to be carried in it, the Countess insisted.

The other vehicle
was a rather large cart, a telega, simple and wooden. It was normally used to carry heavy loads. Jonah, Alma and Wilma travelled in this one with most of the luggage. There was just enough space for Wilma to lie down if she needed to be sedated. Her Highness shared her carriage with Esther, Edith, Greta and Ernst. Edith and Greta both had experience at how to direct and control the horses of the carriage and would take turns at holding the reigns.

It was a s
hame that they could not use the motor car but petrol was too scarce to rely on and there would have been space for only two passengers. The plan was to blend in with the stream of Germans making for the Protectorate and not to stand out.

Most people on the roads tried to move into a north-westerly direction where they hoped to fall into American rather
than Russian hands. Due to the late time of their departure, there was no hope for the two carriages to make it to Brno in one day but they should reach the border to the Protectorate soon. The Countess hoped the huge volume of travellers might make the patrols less attentive.

The group reached
the border during daylight and Greta, who had been holding the reigns since they left the Estate, was disheartened by the scene that presented itself: a long line of vehicles and foot passengers who waited for inspection and clearance. The fiacre and the telega both had to wait an hour before it was their turn to show their documents. Greta wondered how the German army could waste manpower resources like this on a border patrol between two territories which it either occupied or controlled by other means. Several uniformed soldiers covered the post and apparently were taking their task seriously. One older soldier, limping and heavily leaning on a walking stick, was walking along the lines, inspecting the refugees carefully. He had obviously been wounded and no longer fit for fighting duty. He brought with him much needed experience, because the other officers seemed very young in comparison, and frankly, not old enough to have a passport themselves. The limping officer opened the door to the landau coach and asked the ladies to step out onto the road.

Whe
n he saw the confident and ladylike demeanour of the Countess he was visibly impressed and after only a cursory glance at her papers, which he evaluated with an admiring whistling sound. He looked at the rest of the passengers, held his glance on Esther and asked to see her papers as well but when he saw her produce a fresh looking German passport he already seemed to have lost interest, gave the document little attention and told them to step back into the coach and carry on with their journey.

Jonah
’s cart had deliberately fallen behind in the queue, so that they would have time to reconsider their plan in case the Countess and the ladies were encountering any difficulties with their passports. Now he had to wait another twenty minutes before it was his turn. The older officer had already looked at them suspiciously and when they came to the front of the queue he ordered them to wait at the side of the border post to be inspected in more detail by one of the younger officers, who currently were still busy examining other refugees and their papers.

Jonah had expected this and told Alma not to worry and not to show any fear towards the officers but instead to treat them with welcoming arms a
s equals and helpers. As he said this he realised that all the luggage for the Countess and the ladies was on his cart and he would be held accountable for it. Not only was he clueless as to what they might have taken with them but it was going to be difficult to justify why he had those possessions in his care. He might even be taken for a thief.

Greta and her fellow
passengers could hardly believe their luck of getting across the border without a lengthy and painful examination. Then they came to realise that the second part of their party was still on the other side of the control post, receiving more attention by the border police.

“We have to
go back and help them!” exclaimed Greta in panic.

“We can't help them, my dear. It is now in God's hand
s,” said the Countess.

“Then let's stop and wait here. I want to be able to see what happens,” the distressed daughter suggested.

“No, we have to carry on as if nothing has happened,” explained her Highness. “If we stop here waiting we might arouse suspicion. Jonah knows the way to Brno, we will wait along the road as soon as we find an opportune place for it.”

The fiacre carried on for anoth
er half an hour and then stopped by the side of the road.

On the other side of the border it was finally Jonah
’s turn to be inspected.

The young officer dealing with them appeared to be the nicest one of the b
unch and when he saw the medicated and slow responding Wilma he assumed that she was sick, offered her a little drink of water and only then asked for their papers.

“You must forgive my colleague
,” the young officer said rolling his eyes. “He is in a lot of pain and he likes to take out his misery on other people. I guess he picked you out of spite because you are travelling with an invalid. He hates to see physical illness because it reminds him of his own handicap. Let me just have a look at your papers so he doesn't think I am not doing my job properly.”

“Thank you, you are very kind,” said Alma with a motherly smile.

“You have a Hungarian accent!” the officer said with excitement in his voice. “How exotic. Were you born there?”

“I was born in Slovakia. I m
oved to Budapest with my family but I fled to Bratislava during the communist revolution in 1919. This is where I met my husband here,” Alma replied cautiously.

“You got married in Germany?” the young man asked her. “Your documents are stamped in Prussia. How did that happen?”

“We went there to marry because it is where my husband’s family lives. They had offered to pay for the reception, who would say no to that! We are headed there now to join them.”

“You mustn't go there,” the border patrol warned them
and whispered to them quietly. “If you take my advice, stay in the south. The Americans are coming north from Bavaria up from the Rhine towards Berlin, the Bolsheviks are moving towards Berlin from the east.” He looked over his shoulder to see where his limping colleague was and then continue. “You don't want to be taken by them.” Then he straightened up and said loudly. “The roads to Prussia are in excellent condition, it won’t take you long to get there. A perfect place to witness the German victory.”

“Thank you, we will take that
advice,” said Jonah. “You have been very helpful, officer.”

“It is all credit to your pretty wife,” he said, leaning towards Jonah in a familiar
manner.  “I really would not want to see her getting hurt. My father fought in the Balkans in the last war and he always talked highly of the beautiful women of the east. Now I know what he meant.”

“Thank you officer,” said Alma and laughed.

At this moment the older officer came limping towards them and shouted at the young one: “What are you doing here laughing with these suspects? Have you checked their papers? “

“Yes I have,” said the young officer rolling his eyes. “They are all in order.”

“I presume you have asked them where they are going and why?” barked the older one, continuing his inquisition.

“To the n
orth of Germany to stay with their family. Everyone here is running away from the Soviets. What other story have we heard for the last few weeks? There is no need to ask. We are all wasting our time. We should be at the front fighting,” the young man replied.

“I picke
d these people out because they don't look kosher, understand, my young colleague?” the old soldier said suggestively.

“Yes, I understand. I know why we are here. Now, look at their passports yourself.” He handed them over th
e documents and read out: “Joseph and Anna Finsterwalder, with his daughter from a previous marriage. Married in Stettin, Prussia, coming from Slovakia ahead of the Red Army to meet with his family in the north. Sometimes I wonder why you insist on doing all this. There must be better ways for you to be useful? ”

The older one
’s face was getting red with anger at this provocation and he only just managed to control his rage by responding very slowly, emphasising every syllable with fisted hand movements.

“Passports can be forged. Did they not teach you anything
? Am I the only one here who has training and experience?”

“Oh shut up will you,” the young man exploded. “They have transferred
you from post to post since nobody could stand you longer than a week. We are stuck with you because nobody else will have you. If you were so experienced and clever you would probably still be walking like a normal person.”

“Keep
talking big mouth,” said the older one calmly. “You would not last a minute at the front. They would shoot you sooner than you could look at your watch to see what time it is. So shut up. This is important work we are doing here. We are here to protect the Reich from communists, rebels and especially, the last existing Jews. They have to be brought to justice. We can't allow them to infiltrate our country and spy on us. If you continue with your attitude I will have to report you for being a traitor yourself.”

The young one still smiled sarcastically at the speech given to him and said with a bo
red tone in his voice: “The few Jews that are still free are running the opposite way to us, you fool. They are waiting for the Soviets. They think they will be equals with the Russians now. Which Jew with any kind of sense left would be running towards us? You really are out of your mind.”

Jonah and Alma found it hard to keep their calm and appear nonchalant during this exchange. They had to pretend to be in agreement with the wounded soldier but their fear was growing the longer the argument went on.

“I will tell you why a Jew might be coming running towards us,” the older one replied with intense and almost mad looking eyes: “Because a Jew is fooling you by doing the opposite of what you expect him to. One Jew may want to return to his old residence in Germany to take back what he thinks belongs to him, and another one is going to cowardly stab you in your sleep. There is no evil thought that the Jew has not thought of and no deed that he is not capable of.”

“If you say so.
I tell you all Jews are already back in Galicia and the Ukraine where they came from. You won't find any here,” said the young officer, looking away dismissively.

“Now
look at that man and his face,” the older one continued. “It is classically shaped like that of a Jew. Calls himself Joseph Finsterwalder. He would not be the first one to try such a trick.”

The young officer looked apologetically at Jonah, implying with his body language that it was best to wait and just endure this charade.

“You are not the first one to mention this,” Jonah said. “I am used to it by now. I can't tell you how I hate to look like this myself. To think I always have to have my papers on me so I can prove that I am not a dirty Jew.”

“I don't thi
nk I have asked you to speak,” was the rude reply. “You would say that. Jews can be very good actors, in fact most actors were before we got them. Now, look you know-it-all: The best way to find a forgery is to examine the stamp on it really carefully. It is the hardest part to falsify successfully.”

“You tell me that several times a day,” said the young one, stamping his foot impatiently.  “I have looked very closely. Please check again and tell me what I missed.”

To Jonah's relief there was not the triumphant reply that he had expected, but a rather shy and quiet: “Hmmn, it actually seems fine to me. But the girl: I am not convinced. What exactly is wrong with her?”

“She has a
fever, we don't know what it is. Maybe the travelling and the hunger,” replied Alma.

“How long has she been like this? Could it be Typhus?” asked the old soldier.

“I don't know. Are you familiar with diseases? Would you mind having a look for us and tell me what you think?” suggested Alma, playing on the fear of a contagious disease that she thought she might have detected in his voice.

“
Hem, no I don't. Let’s have a look at the luggage. That is quite a huge collection of suitcases that you are travelling with, not as shabby as I would have expected judging from your clothes. I wonder what we can find in here.”