The Ring (16 page)

This time when they reached the door to her private dungeon he did not wait for the woman to conduct the search. He slipped his hands slowly over her body, down her stomach, up her buttocks, and across her breasts. With every inch of her body, Ariana shrank from him, looking with hatred into his face as he laughed and the woman firmly shut the door between them. Good night, fr+nulein . And with that she heard him walk away then, but the footsteps stopped only a few feet away. She heard him bark curtly at the matron.

This one. I haven't tried this one before. , Listening intently with her eyes closed, Ariana heard the keys rattle, the door open, and then his footsteps disappeared. Moments later she could hear screams and pleading, the sound of his crop whizzing through the air and into flesh, and then silence, no more screaming, only a long series of horrific grunts. But she could no longer hear the woman, and in her worst fantasies, she couldn't quite imagine what he'd done. Had he beaten the woman into unconsciousness? Had he whipped her till she died? But at last she heard quiet sobbing, and she knew the woman was alive.

Standing pressed against the wall in her tiny cell, she waited, listening for the footsteps, fearing that they would approach her door again, but instead they turned down the long corridor and rhythmically disappeared. Sighing softly with relief, she sank back to her seat on the floor.

It went on for days and weeks, with regular visits to the captain, who informed her that they had heard nothing of her father and he had not returned. By the end of the third week, she was exhausted, filthy, starving, and she couldn't understand what had happened, why they hadn't come back for her. Or was Von Rheinhardt lying? Perhaps Gerhard and her father had been captured and were prisoners, too. The only answer she couldn't let herself accept was the worst one. They had been killed.

It was after her last visit to the captain, after three weeks of those visits, that Hildebrand escorted her back to her cell. Up until then it had often been the other lieutenant, and now and then it had been someone else.

But today it was he who held her arm as they made their way into the depths of the prison. She was exhausted and three or four times she stumbled. Her hair hung in a tangled mass down her back and around her face. She swept it back often with long, delicate fingers, but the nails were broken now, and there was no longer any trace of perfume in her hair The cashmere sweater she had first worn so jauntily around her shoulders, she clutched tightly around her for warmth, and her skirt and blouse were torn and dirty her stockings she had thrown away after the first few days. He took it all in with a look of interest, like a man investing in a herd of cattle or buying sheep, and on the last stairway in the prison they ran into Lieutenant Manfred von Tripp. He greeted Hildebrand curtly, and his eyes avoided Ariana's gaze He always looked just above her, as though he had no particular interest in her face.

Good afternoon, Manfred. , Hildebrand was oddly casual as they passed, but Von Tripp saluted and murmured only, Afternoon. And then as though to watch them, he turned briefly and stared. Ariana was too tired to notice, but Hildebrand cast him a knowing look and grinned. Von Tripp turned away then and went upstairs, back to his desk. But as he sat there, his anger burned. Hildebrand was taking much too long to come back to work. He had taken her down there almost twenty minutes earlier; there was no reason for it to take so long. Unless ' slowly the realization dawned on him. The fool. He would even pull a stunt like that with her. Did he have any idea who the girl's father was, or from what world she came? Didn't he realize that she was a German, a girl of class and breeding, no matter where her father was or what he'd done? Maybe he could get away with his appalling behavior with some of the prisoners, but surely not with a girl like this. And whoever the victims were, Hildebrand's outrageous antics made Manfred sick. Without thinking further, he found himself hurrying down the hallways and then clattering down the stairs. Manfred knew it didn't matter in his heart who the hell her father was, not to them. To them she was only a girl. He found himself praying that he was not too late.

He grabbed the key ring from the matron, gesturing to her to stay seated, and barked curtly, Never mind. Stay there. And then with a quick look over his shoulder he asked a question, Is Hildebrand down there? The woman in uniform nodded, and Manfred hurried down the last flight of stairs with the keys, the heels of his boots clicking smartly.

The sounds within told him that Hildebrand was in her cell. Without uttering a single syllable, Manfred turned the key and pulled open the door, and what he saw there was Ariana, almost naked, her clothes in shreds around her, and blood streaming from a cut on the side of her face. Hildebrand stood there also, his face gleaming, his eyes wild with lust, the whip in one hand, the other tearing at Ariana's tangled hair. But from the skirt still barely draped around her middle and from the fight he still saw in her eyes, he knew that the worst had not yet happened. He was grateful that he hadn't been too late.

Get out.

What the hell business is it of yours, damn you? She's ours.

She's not ours,' she belongs to the Reich, just as you do, just as I everyone does.

The hell she does. You and I aren't sitting in this prison.

So you rape her, is that it? The two men stared at each other in blind fury, and for an instant Ariana, panting and breathless in the corner, wondered if her assailant would also whip the lieutenant who outranked him. But he was not quite that mad Von Tripp spoke first and stood back from the door. I told you to get out. I'll see you upstairs. Hildebrand snarled as he swept past him, and for an instant in the dark cell neither Manfred nor Ariana spoke. And then, bravely sweeping tears from her cheeks and pushing her hair back from her eyes, she attempted to cover herself decently, as Manfred gazed quietly at the floor. When he sensed that she was calmer, he looked up at her again, and this time he did not avoid her face, or the painfully blue eyes. Fr+nulein von Gotthard ' I'm sorry ' I should have known. I'll see to it that this doesn't happen again. It shouldn't. And then, We're not all like that. I can't tell you how sorry I am. And he was. He had had a younger sister who was close to Ariana's age, although he himself was thirty-nine. Are you all right? They stood there talking in the dark, with only a small wedge of light peeking through the door.

Her blond hair flying, she nodded, and he handed her his handkerchief to dab at the blood still dripping down her face. I think I'm all right. Thank you. She was far more grateful than he knew. She had thought that Hildebrand was going to kill her, and when she understood instead that he was going to rape her, she'd hoped that he would kill her first.

Manfred looked at her again for a long moment, and then sighed deeply. As much as he had once believed in it, he had come to hate this war at last. It had become a corruption of everything he had once trusted and defended. It was like watching a woman you once respected become a whore. Is there anything else I can do?

She smiled at him then, holding her sweater wrapped around her torso, with those big, sad, waiflike eyes. You've already done everything you can. The only other thing you can do for me is find my father. And then, suddenly, daring to ask him the truth, her eyes met his. Is he here somewhere? In the Reichstag?

Slowly Manfred shook his head. We've had no news. And then, Perhaps he'll still come. Don't give up hope, fr+nulein. Never do that.

I won't. After today. She smiled at him again, and looking at her gravely, he nodded, stepped outside, and once more locked the door. Slowly Ariana sank to the floor again, thinking of what had happened, and of the officer who had providentially arrived just in time. As she sat in the darkness of her cell, her hatred for Hildebrand dimmed with her gratitude for what Von Tripp had done. They were an odd lot, all of them. She would never understand their kind.

She did not see either man again until the end of the next week. By then she had been locked in the cell in their dungeon for exactly one month. And what she feared most was that her father and Gerhard had been killed. Still, she couldn't accept it She only allowed herself to think of the present moment Of the enemy. And of getting back at them.

An officer she had never seen before came to get her and dragged her roughly from her cell. He pushed her up the stairs when she stumbled and cursed her when she tripped and fell. She was barely able to walk now, from fatique and hunger and the lack of exercise that left her legs eternally stiff and numb. When she reached Dietrich von Rheinhardt's office, she was a different young woman than the one who had sat there so self-possessed and poised only a month before. Von Rheinhardt stared at her with something akin to revulsion, but beneath the filth and tangles he knew precisely what was there. She was a beautiful young woman, well-bred, intelligent, she would have been an enchanting present to give any man of the Reich. Not for him though, he had other pleasures, other needs. But she would make a handsome gift to someone. He was not sure yet whom.

He no longer wasted time on the fr+nuleins or on the fancy speeches. She was of no further use to them. And so, I'm afraid you've become useless. A prisoner held for ransom when there is no one to pay that ransom is not a valuable possession, but a burden instead. There is no reason why we should feed and house you any longer. Our hospitality, in fact, is at an end. Then, they were going to shoot her. That was it, she decided. But she no longer cared. It was a better fate than the other possibilities. She didn't want to become a prostitute for the officers and she was no longer strong enough to scrub floors. She had lost her family, her reason for living. If they shot her, it would be over forever. Listening to him, she was almost relieved.

But Von Rheinhardt had more to say. You will be driven home for one hour. You may collect your belongings and then you may leave. You may take nothing of great value from the house, no money, no jewels, only whatever personal possessions you may need in the immediate future. After that, you can take care of yourself.

Then, they weren't going to shoot her? But why not? She stared at him in disbelief. You will live in the women's barracks, and you will work like everyone else.

I'll have someone drive you to Grunewald in an hour. In the meantime, you may wait in the hall. How could she wait outside, in view of everyone, in her disgraceful condition? Half-naked, in the clothes that Hildebrand had torn off her body a week before. They were truly animals.

What will happen to my father's house now? Her voice was a croak in her throat, so seldom had she spoken in the past month.

Von Rheinhardt busied himself with the papers on his desk and at last looked up. It will be occupied by General Ritter. And his staff. His staff consisted of four willing women he had collected carefully over the past five years. I'm sure he'll be very happy there.

I'm sure. So had they been. Her father and her brother, and once upon a time her mother, and she. They had all been happy there. Before these bastards had arrived to smash their lives, and now they were stealing the house in Grunewald. For an instant there were tears swimming in her eyes. Maybe she thought hopefully of the air raids she'd grown so used to maybe the bombs would come and kill them all.

That's all, fr+nulein. Report to your barracks by five o'clock this afternoon. And I might add that the barracks arrangement is optional. You are free to make other ' eh ' living arrangements within the confines of the army ' of course. She knew what that meant. She could offer to be the general's mistress and he would let her stay in her own home. She felt a stab of indignation as she sat numbly on a long wooden bench in the hall. Her only consolation was that when she returned to Grunewald, her clothes in tatters, her face scratched and bruised, filthy, hungry, beaten, then Hedwig and Berthold could see what they had done. This was the precious Party that the old fools loved. This was what you got with Heil Hitler Ariana was busy with her thoughts and her fury and she didn't see Von Tripp approach.

Fr+nulein von Gotthard? She looked up in surprise to see him. They hadn't met since the day he had saved her from Hildebrand and his whip. I understand that I'm to take you home. He didn't smile at her, but he no longer averted his eyes from hers.

Do you mean that you're to take me to my barracks? She looked at him icily. And then, regretting her anger, she sighed. It wasn't his fault. I'm sorry.

He nodded slowly. The captain said I was to take you to Grunewald to get your things. She nodded silent assent, her eyes huge in her hungry face. And then, as though he couldn't help it, he seemed to unbend a little, and his voice was kind. Have you had lunch yet? Lunch? She hadn't even eaten breakfast or dinner the night before. Meals in her stinking dungeon had arrived once a day and were never worthy of a name, breakfast, lunch, dinner. It was pigslop no matter what time they served it. Only the prospect of total starvation had in the end forced her to eat. She didn't answer him, but he knew what she was thinking. I understand. And then he gestured her to leave her bench. We should go now. He said it somewhat sternly, and Ariana followed him slowly from the brightly lit hall. Her knees felt weak for a minute, and the sunlight briefly blinded her eyes, but she stood there, breathing deeply, and when she slid into the car beside him, she turned her head away as though to look out at the rows of houses being used as barracks so he wouldn't see her cry.

They drove on for a few minutes, and then he pulled the car over and sat staring for a moment at the back of her head. Ariana only sat there, staring, totally unaware of the tall blond man with the gentle eyes and the aristocratic dueling scar. I'll be back in a moment, fr+nulein. Ariana didn't answer, she only lay her head back against the seat and pulled the blanket he had given her more tightly around her. She was thinking again of her father and Gerhard, wondering where they were. She hadn't been this comfortable in over a month, and she didn't care what happened now, she was out of that stinking cell at last.