Gretel and the Dark (24 page)

I nod, without saying a word. Uncle Hraben kicks the Prince of Darkness, roaring commands until he has it back on the leash.

When he goes, only Daniel’s weeping and the soft drumming of the mad women beating on the glass breaks the silence. I’ve been turned to stone, a statue with eyes fixed on the sky, watching the smoke and the clouds changing places above me.

Benjamin’s yelp, as icy water from the outside pump stung his grazed face and hands, was loud enough to bring Gudrun from the warm chimney corner.

‘Who’s there? Oh.’ She lowered the heavy pan. They both stared at his legs. ‘Look at the state of you. And what’s happened to those trousers? They were a good pair, years of wear left in them, and now you turn up with the knees out.’

Humiliation had its own sour taste. It rose like bile in Benjamin’s throat as he relived that never-to-be-forgotten crossing of the square, inching forward on his hands and knees like a penitent, ridden like an ass, cursed like a dog, kicked and buffeted, spat on, the smoke threatening to choke him. A fresh round of insults and blows rained down every time he tried to rise. They’d made him crawl, face hardly raised an inch from the filthy cobbles, until new victims presented themselves. Finally released, he made for a wall, blindly groping for finger holes in the uneven stones in order to pull himself upright. One stealthy glance over his shoulder showed his attackers tightening around a group of poverty-stricken, ringleted
Ostjuden
. What could he do? Benjamin had lurched away full of self-loathing. He was a coward.

‘You’ve been fighting,’ crowed Gudrun. ‘Oh, just wait until the master hears about –’

‘Leave me alone,’ snarled Benjamin, dabbing at his bleeding legs with an old rag. ‘Run and tell him if that’s what you want. I really couldn’t care less.’

‘You’re no better than a guttersnipe. Scrapping and brawling –’

Benjamin glared at her. ‘There were hooligans running riot in Leopoldstadt. I was one of those attacked.’

‘Oh.’ Gudrun subsided. ‘In that case …’ She held open the door. ‘I suppose you’d better come into the light. Stand right there. Don’t come any further. That floor’s been washed.’

‘I can’t …’ The kitchen momentarily turned black. Benjamin stumbled forward and clung to the table. Lilie, who’d been polishing silver, leapt up to support him.

‘What’s he done? Let me see.’

‘Out of my way, girl.’ Gudrun pushed her aside and seized Benjamin’s head between her two hands to peer at the broken skin. ‘This needs cleaning and some of my marigold poultice slapped on it to draw out the dirt. You could have picked up anything in that filthy place.’ She pulled forward a stool. ‘Sit down.’

‘No.’ Benjamin shrank from her show of rough compassion. ‘It’s all right. I’ll see to it myself.’

‘Please yourself. What’s another scar on a face so ugly?’

‘Benjamin isn’t ugly,’ protested Lilie. Ignoring Gudrun’s snort of derision, she stroked his cheek and he leaned into her. ‘It was him, wasn’t it? I should have known he wouldn’t keep his promise. I did everything he –’ She fell silent as Josef appeared in the doorway.

‘What’s going on?’ His eyes widened as he took in Benjamin’s wretched state. ‘How did this happen? No, don’t answer. Come with me. Not you, Lilie – I need to speak with Benjamin alone.’

‘He can’t go anywhere in that state,’ protested Gudrun.

‘I dare say it will all clean up.’ Josef took Benjamin’s arm. ‘Bring hot water and see about finding fresh clothing. Benjamin is of a size with Robert.’

‘How many pairs of hands do people think I’ve got?’ Gudrun asked of the ceiling. ‘It seems the more I do the less consideration I get.’

Benjamin found himself seated in one of the worn leather armchairs in the doctor’s consulting room without being able to remember the process of arriving there.

‘Don’t try to talk,’ said Josef. ‘Let’s have a look at you first.’ He peered into the boy’s eyes. There followed an extremely uncomfortable process of cleaning and removing grit from his raw knees, after which the doctor applied various compounds, all of which stung, but probably no more than Gudrun’s dubious potions would have done. At least Josef was gentle.

After he’d finished, Benjamin experienced another blank spell. Perhaps he dozed. This time, when he opened his eyes, Josef stood over him with a soft white shirt and a pair of trousers.

‘These should fit you.’ He pressed a glass of wine into the boy’s hand. ‘Drink this. It will help.’

‘Thank you, sir. I’m sorry to cause so much trouble.’ Benjamin’s head sank on to his chest again. Holding it erect seemed more trouble than it was worth.

‘Never mind,’ the doctor said urgently. ‘What happened? You went to the club. Was someone there responsible for this?’

‘No. That came later.’ Benjamin took a few sips of wine. The peppery
Weißgipfler
revived him a little, but he was too tired to tell the full story. ‘I made a … friend at the club. I’ll need to go back tomorrow to find out more. After leaving there, I went to see Hugo Besser, you know, the journalist – thought he might know something. I never got that far. There’s been trouble in Leopoldstadt, sir, really bad trouble this time. Some ruffians were wrecking shops, setting buildings afire and
attacking people. From what I could see, the violence was directed’ – he hesitated – ‘against our people, sir, against Jews.’ His head drooped again.

Josef reached forward and turned his Benjamin’s face up. ‘Any blows to the head?’ The boy nodded.

‘When they got hold of me, they … they pushed me around a bit.’

‘I see.’ Josef stood up and began pacing the floor. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing something Lilie said.’ He took a deep breath. ‘She said – these may not be her exact words –
I should have known he wouldn’t keep his promise. I did everything he asked of me.
’ Josef straightened a picture. He ran his finger along the top of the frame and checked it for dust before whirling round and staring hard at Benjamin. ‘To whom did she refer? What is the name of this man? What promises? And why have neither of you spoken of this before?’

Benjamin sighed. ‘I don’t know what she’s talking about.’ But there was something. It hovered right on the razor’s edge of memory, and the harder he tried to catch hold of it, the more it retreated. ‘I don’t know,’ he repeated. ‘Wasn’t it more of her … you know, fairy stories … like that nonsense about being made of clockwork, or never eating?’

‘Hmm,’ said Josef. ‘Perhaps.’ He sat and refilled their glasses. ‘Tell me more about what happened in Leopoldstadt. Who were the instigators? Christian Socialists? Lueger’s men?’ Without waiting for answers, he continued: ‘It’s been four years since that foolish man started issuing warnings to us.’

Benjamin sat in silence for a moment, remembering their late-night conversations. During the 1895 elections the mayor had threatened to start confiscating property. An empty threat, of course: Lueger was merely trying to ensure the Jews didn’t
support his political opponents. And naturally he was addressing the better-off, assimilated Jews – merchants, professionals and academics – not the pathetic creatures who fled their homes to seek shelter here. Even so, it was Karl Lueger who’d started calling the Hungarian capital
Judapest –
a jibe gleefully seized on by the mob.

‘Lueger’s a troublemaker,’ he said at last. ‘He says whatever will get him popular support.’

Josef nodded. ‘And never mind the consequences. So far it’s all talk – some utterances more poisonous than others. Mark my words, sooner or later some madman will take his ramblings seriously. And then what?
The Jew is guilty
, goes the slogan. Of what, we ask? The eternal question. Of whatever the Gentile multitude decides, naturally. We are always the scapegoats, no matter what.’ He cleared his throat. ‘So how did you escape from his thugs?’

‘I crawled,’ mumbled Benjamin, and wished the words unsaid. He felt his cheeks flame and stared at the floor. There’d been dog shit on his palms and nowhere to clean it off until he came to the canal. He’d crouched on its banks in the fading light, biting back tears. Even after prolonged scrubbing the stink had clung to his broken skin. How could he ever touch someone as pure and lovely as Lilie again? When he’d finally risen, stiff and aching, the smallest movement opening his partially scabbed wounds, he’d looked back in the direction of Schattenplatz. Two columns of dark smoke rose, so thick and straight they might themselves have been chimneys, each with a cloud-like finial flattening itself against the sky. Benjamin could not get the image out of his mind.

Josef patted his shoulder. ‘Go to bed, lad. Sleep’s the greatest healer. Everything will seem better in the morning. Those
knees may take a while to mend, but the graze on your cheek is superficial.’ He smiled. ‘There won’t be a scar.’

‘Just a minute,’ Benjamin said wearily. ‘There is something –’

‘It’ll wait until tomorrow, I’m sure.’

‘No, it’s important. This man –’

‘The one who attacked you in Leopoldstadt?’

‘I’d seen him before.’ Benjamin paused, fighting to get his thoughts in order, the process impeded by his reluctance to revisit a series of abject humiliations. ‘Today, he was passing the club – or, at least, I thought he was passing, but maybe there’s more of a connection. He’s a striking-looking fellow, very fair-haired, almost white, and with a scar here.’ He drew a finger across his cheek. ‘Well-spoken, and immaculately dressed. There’s something about him … he smiles … all the time, but only with his mouth, if you understand what I mean. His eyes’ – Benjamin gave a small shudder – ‘they’re pale, like a fish’s eyes. Cold as ice.’

‘An unpleasant character,’ commented Josef.

‘There’s more. He was in the tavern the other evening, sitting near Hugo and me while we talked. The club was mentioned –’

Josef leaned forward. His eyes gleamed. ‘Was Lilie?’

‘Not by name,’ Benjamin said quickly. ‘Well, we don’t know her real name, do we? No, I talked about missing girls in general.’ He coughed. ‘Hugo gave me Obstler. I’m not used to anything so strong.’

‘You let your tongue run away with you?’

‘We … uh … spoke more about the Thélème and … uh … whether it was possible for a girl to escape. The blond man probably heard everything. I thought all along that he was the one who came after me when I left. If he works at the club, it would make sense. I wasn’t going to risk another kicking, so
when he told me to clear off today, I didn’t need telling twice.’ He raised his head, meeting Josef’s eyes. ‘I went back later, though.’

‘But there he was, waiting for you in Leopoldstadt.’

‘Yes. I hope never to see him again.’

‘His name?’ prompted Josef.

Benjamin frowned, struggling to remember the period before the men had knocked him to his knees. He closed his eyes and saw the fair-haired ringleader perched on his tumbled-stone throne, polishing not a stolen crown but a golden lamp. He heard again the jeers of his companions. ‘Klingemann. The others called him Klingemann.’

‘Not a name I know.’ Josef grimaced. ‘So it revolves round him.’

‘Perhaps.’ Benjamin looked at him curiously, fancying a note of relief in the doctor’s voice. He was unable to pursue that suspicion, for the doctor had urged him to his feet and, the half-empty bottle in his hand, his son’s clothes over his arm, was guiding him through the kitchen, towards the stables.

Josef Breuer woke from a sleep so deep and dreamless he wondered briefly how nearly it resembled the untroubled slumber of the dead. Eyes still closed, he scratched and stretched, flexing each muscle as if by this small effort he could assure himself of his own corporeality. When his thoughts turned to the events of the previous evening, Josef experienced repeated waves of irritation with Benjamin for getting embroiled in something that must surely interfere with their investigation. The boy was a fool. What else could he do now but instruct him to desist from the proposed return to the club? An eminent physician couldn’t be
seen
to be responsible for sending his manservant to serious
injury or death. If the worst happened questions would be asked. The truth would out. Evil interpretations would be put upon the innocent purpose of the visit. Finally, he,
Herr Doktor
Josef Breuer, would be judged guilty. He’d be pilloried. Become a laughing stock. His entire life’s work would count for nothing and the whole Breuer family would be held in contempt.

His blood boiled. His eyes snapped open.

The room was full of butterflies: white wings, black-dappled, twisting, turning, rising and falling as softly as petals dislodged by a gentle breeze. Their apparently aimless movements made them as much creatures of dreams as was Lilie, with her beauty and fragility; her mystery. Josef swung his legs over the side of the bed, anxious as always to find her, touch her … prove to himself she wasn’t an apparition spun from his yearning for lost love. Feet still dangling, his eyes were drawn to two butterflies settled on the bed rail intertwining their antennae like a pair of lovers. Psyche and Cupid, he thought sourly, though in the present case it was Psyche and not Cupid whose true identity remained hidden. Oh, Lilie, Lilie … what dark purpose brought you here? He tapped the bedframe and the butterflies rose, weaving a courtly dance above his head. A strange, sweet fragrance, evoking memories of the countryside in spring, filled the room.

Josef’s thoughts returned to Benjamin. While it was true the boy was incompetent, couldn’t even get rid of a few garden pests, at least his battered state had provoked a telling response from Lilie.

‘
I should have known
,’ Josef said aloud, savouring each word, ‘
I should have known he wouldn’t keep his promise
.’ He frowned. ‘
I did everything he asked of me
,’ he added, though he wasn’t absolutely sure she’d finished her sentence.

The
butterflies danced nearer, circling his head, and he irritably swatted them away. What did Lilie’s words signify? Why should she, quite out of the blue, assume she knew the identity of the person responsible for the attack on Benjamin? Did it mean she was acquainted with this fair-haired man, this – what was his name? – ah, yes,
Klingemann
. And why so little surprise at the boy’s injuries?

He went through the meagre facts again, sifting words and silences, weighing nuances, looking for hidden meanings. It brought no comfort. The answer was simple enough: they were in collusion. Josef’s fists clenched. His temples throbbed. Their plans, whatever they were, thrown awry, the ungrateful pair had betrayed themselves. All that remained was to discover their purpose. He sprang up, uncomfortably aware of the clicking of his joints, and just as quickly sat down again.