The Star of Kazan

‘Mine,’ he said again, and his mother nodded, for it did not seem to her at all surprising that the heavens had opened and thrown a flower at the feet of her magnificent son.

This, after all, was Vienna.

C

HAPTER

F

ORTY

-

THREE

H

ERMANN

C

HANGES

H

IS

M

IND

Edeltraut was standing by the window of her drawing room, looking out at her estate. Though it was summer now, the lake was still grey; a cold wind rippled its surface.

She was alone. Uncle Conrad was leaving Bad Haxenfeld, to follow the dentists to a newer, more fashionable spa in the south. The dentists had convinced him that the waters were hotter there, and smelt stronger, and the treatment was more up to date.

At least that was what the Baron had told her, but she knew he was angry with her for having pretended that Annika was her daughter, for having deceived the family about Annika’s birth.

Mathilde too was angry. She had been fond of Annika, she said. It was all right to ‘borrow’ the belongings of a true daughter, but not to pretend to have a daughter and take her away from those who loved her.

Edeltraut thought this was nonsense. She had so nearly succeeded in her plan. If only she’d had that wretched dog put down when Hermann had first tied a firecracker to his tail . . . And if she’d succeeded, everyone would have grovelled at her feet.

But it was no good thinking about the past. Only the future mattered now, and the future was Hermann and Spittal, and the great inheritance of the von Tannenbergs. There had always been von Tannenbergs at Spittal. Always. Since the first Ritter von Tannenberg had conquered this marshy corner of Norrland and built his great fortified house and dug his moats and put iron studs on his doors, there had been von Tannenbergs with their proud flag fluttering in the wind.

And there always would be von Tannenbergs. Everything she had done, she had done for Hermann. In five years he would ride in at his gates, a fully commissioned officer, and she would hand him the keys of his kingdom. Lieutenant Hermann von Tannenberg, her son, Master of Spittal and its villages and forests and fields.

And after Hermann would come his sons and his son’s sons – and then she could die content.

She put on a shawl and went out of doors to stand on the terrace. The pike plopped in the water, the storks were wading in the ditch, picking off the last of the frogs. At least she had made the roof sound, and repaired the stonework. Spittal would be safe now for many years.

She was still standing there, lost in her dream, when she heard a carriage turn into the courtyard and went to see who could be calling at this time of day.

The carriage was unfamiliar but the letters on the side made her heart pound. St Xavier’s Military Academy for the Sons of the Nobility.

The carriage stopped and two men in uniform got out: a captain with a weather-beaten face and the ribbon of the Iron Cross on his chest, and a young lieutenant who turned and spoke to someone huddled on the back seat.

The huddled figure straightened itself and stepped out on to the cobbles.

It was Hermann.

Not in his St Xavier uniform with the cap and the swagger stick and the shiny boots . . . Hermann in a cloth jacket and trousers, with a woollen cap pulled over his forehead. He looked pale and ill, and when his mother went towards him, he turned away.

‘Hermann!’ she cried. ‘What has happened? Why are you here?’

The boy did not answer, and she saw that he was trembling.

‘May we have a few words with you in private?’ said the captain.

Frau Edeltraut led them into the drawing room. ‘What is it?’ she cried again. ‘Is he ill?’

The captain bent his head. ‘Yes, you could say that. It would be the kindest way of putting it. We have had to expel him, Frau von Tannenberg. He is not suitable for St Xavier’s.’

‘Not suitable! What are you saying? He has thought of nothing but the army all his life.’

‘Nevertheless he is quite unsuited to army life. I’m afraid the boy is a coward and a weakling. There will be a report from the principal which we will send to you. But there are no circumstances under which we would allow him to return to St Xavier’s.’

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?’