HS02 - Days of Atonement (21 page)

T
HE BULK OF
a man shifted into silhouette against the moonlit grille, moving swiftly towards me.

I reached for my trousers.

‘Do not stand up, Herr Magistrate,’ he hissed, his face hidden by darkness. ‘If danger threatens, I will leave, and you will remain. You are doing what you have to do, while I have my own sort of immunity.’

I thought I heard a trace of humour in his words.

‘Puffendørn said that you’d been asking after me. I expected you to come again, and I waited late in the Infirmary. Finally, I took the onus upon myself. I know too well how things go in Kamenetz. I’ve been here longer than I deserve. I hope that you will remember that?’

His voice had sunk to a whisper, and he waited for an answer.

‘I will,’ I said, though I had no notion what I was promising.

‘My name is Korna,’ he continued. ‘Alexei Korna, medical officer of this garrison. I knew I’d find you here if I waited long enough.’

I could not see the smile on his lips, but I was aware of it.

‘The human body was not made for a place such as Kamenetz. Rochus told me where they’d put you. I knew the cold would do its work. All you had to do was drink a little water.’

‘I drank a large jug of flat beer,’ I said, and heard him chuckle in the dark.

‘I wanted to see you, sir,’ he said suddenly.

‘And I wished to see you . . .’

‘My need is greater,’ he added quickly.

I did not know how to reply.

‘This must come to an end,’ he continued gravely. ‘It will be better for all of us. You can’t imagine the risks I had to run to get that message out of here. He is vigilant, I’ll say that for him. But I will not be cowed. I have reached an age when . . . how shall I put it? What career can I look forward to here? What future anywhere? My only price is a ticket out of Kamenetz
on the post-coach. I speak as a Prussian, and proud to be so. This is not what I call king and country.’

I tried to hush him, but passion had got the upper hand. He would not be silenced.

‘I hope you will not take it ill,’ he continued, ‘if I express my surprise that the authorities have been so slow to wake up. They should have sent a regiment long ago. But why are you alone? No, forgive me, sir,’ he ranted on. ‘Affairs of State, I can understand. I ought to thank my lucky stars you’re here at all.’

Before I had the chance to say a word, he rushed ahead.

‘What did Baron Stein make of my note?’

The newly appointed Chancellor was the most powerful man in Prussia, more influential than the king himself, according to almost every voice that I had read in the newspapers.

‘I’ve no idea,’ I began, intending to inform the doctor that I had never been privileged to meet that gentleman in my life, but he did not allow me the time.

‘How many men does he intend to send?’ he insisted.

I was ever less sure where he was leading me. The doctor knew my name. My business in Kamenetz was plain to one and all.

‘When will they arrive?’ he pressed me. ‘A rebellion in the East will have terrible consequences for Prussia. They are bound to fail. Violent repression will follow on.’

‘I am sure the fault is mine,’ I cut in on him. ‘I know nothing of secret notes, nothing of the Chancellor, or of troops being sent to Kamenetz. To be honest, I have not clearly understood what anyone is doing in this place—much less am I calling for more men to be sent here.’

‘What?’ he cried in a strangled whisper, his hands reaching out to grab the lapels of my jacket. His face caught the moonlight as he twisted to secure me, his eyes wild and flashing, his hair a tangled white forest, chubby mutton-chops of the same colour framing his square jaw. Yet his face was that of a younger man. He was no more than forty years old.

‘If you have not been sent by Stein, who the devil are you? They said a magistrate had come on a royal commission. And that Katowice had ordered Rochus not to let you out of his sight. What are you doing here?’

I placed my hands on his, vainly attempting to free myself.

‘I am a magistrate,’ I replied, ‘though not the one that you were expecting. I am investigating the murder of the children of an officer who was stationed in Kamenetz. I am interested in nothing else.’

‘Children?’ the doctor echoed weakly, releasing his grip on my jacket. ‘I thought . . . that is, there’s been a mistake. On my part, sir. I beg your pardon.’

‘I am glad you’ve found me,’ I said. ‘I read your report concerning the death of Major Gottewald.’

‘Was he the father?’

I told him briefly of the events that had brought me to Kamenetz.

‘What has the death of Gottewald to do with the murder of his children?’

I hesitated for a moment.

‘I am not sure,’ I whispered. ‘General Katowice told me that Gottewald died as the result of an accident, nothing more. As you guessed, my movements have been severely hampered since I arrived. No one will speak to me. I know no more than you reported of his death.’

‘What more is there to know?’ the doctor murmured.

I had the impression that he wished to cut short the conversation. He had taken a risk in speaking to me, but he had mistaken his man. Now, he feared the consequences.

‘That must be obvious, Doctor Korna. It did not sound like an accident to me. You reported what you saw, but I would like to know what was going through your mind as you examined the body. Wouldn’t you describe the death of an officer in such dramatic circumstances as being suspect? He was resented for some reason, I gather, though what he might have done I cannot say. Your report had been fouled with excrement, for one thing!’

A strange rumbling sound came from the man.

‘Ah, you met Rochus,’ he replied, trying to suppress his laughter. ‘Didn’t the little patriot tell you what it meant?’

‘A mark of cowardice,’ I said. ‘But what was cowardly in such a death? That is what I do not comprehend. I suspect that Gottewald was murdered.’

‘Silence, sir!’ he hissed. ‘This place is dangerous. We might not be alone for long. Pull up your breeches, and follow me.’

He tugged me up roughly from the bench, and waited while I adjusted my clothing. In silence he led me out into the corridor, turning away from the stairs that I had used to descend to the latrines. At the far end, there was another staircase, which we began to climb in the dark without the help of any light.

Up one flight, then another, then a third.

We stopped on a landing, and I heard a key being turned in a lock.

‘We are in the highest tower of the north-west bastion,’ he whispered. His hand touched my arm, guiding me into a room which was dimly lit by moonlight. I watched attentively as he locked the door behind us. There was a peculiar odour in the room, as if it were a store for meat or butter. If it was a larder, I thought, the meat had turned, the butter had gone off.

‘We are safer here,’ the doctor said, ‘but keep your voice down. We must not be seen together. If I help you, perhaps you can do something for me.’

Again I did not understand what he was hinting at. But the fact that he was willing to speak was enough for me. ‘If I can help you, I will,’ I promised.

‘Fair enough, sir,’ he said, as if a bargain had just been driven between us. ‘Tell me what you wish to know about Gottewald.’

‘You reported severe lacerations to the man’s face, crushing blows to the body, damage to his sexual organs,’ I replied. ‘Were such wounds compatible with a training exercise out in the woods?’

‘Do you know anything about the deer hunt?’ Korna asked.

‘I know enough.’

‘They take it very seriously here. I’ve seen many soldiers who have died while running in the forest, and some of their injuries would surprise you. Gottewald was not the worst, by any means,’ he said with a deep sigh. ‘If you believe he was killed, Herr Stiffeniis, I can provide no medical evidence to support your claim.’

I was silent for some moments. The physician had put paid to my hopes of ever convincing Lavedrine that my theory was correct.

‘What sort of man was he?’ I asked.

‘A Prussian officer,’ he replied quietly. ‘One of the best. One of Katowice’s own. Wherever the general went, Major Gottewald was sure to follow. They had been together in Königsberg, I believe. Gottewald was carrying important despatches for the general when he got caught up in the battle at Jena. He fought valiantly, by all accounts. When the battle was lost, he made his escape alone by night, and managed to return through the enemy lines all the way to Königsberg castle, where Katowice still held out against them.’

‘Quite a deer hunt!’ I commented.

‘When the Armistice was signed, the men of Königsberg garrison were allowed to march out bearing arms, and Katowice withdrew to Kamenetz. Gottewald followed him here a short time later. Always at the great man’s heel. They say he saved Katowice’s life when the general’s hand was severed during the fighting, making a tourniquet out of his own shirt.’ He paused, as if to add weight to what was to come. ‘If Katowice is bent on training the next generation of Prussian heroes, Bruno Gottewald shared his ideals, and assisted him to the utmost. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were up above the clouds at this very moment, petitioning God to bring an army of angels to the aid of General Katowice and Prussia.’

‘The apotheosis of a hero,’ I said, astounded at this singular description. ‘He had a wife and children, though he did not bring them here.’

‘Could not,’ Doctor Korna interposed. ‘The general won’t have them in the fortress.’

‘So I heard,’ I admitted, ‘but didn’t Gottewald ever speak of his wife? Did he never talk of his boys? Didn’t he want them to follow him into the army?’

‘This may surprise you,’ the doctor began, ‘but I can tell you absolutely
nothing
about Major Gottewald. Nor can anyone else in Kamenetz.’ He hesitated for an instant. ‘Except for General Katowice . . .’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Gottewald was a loner,’ Korna replied. ‘He sought solitude, and the general, for reasons known only to himself, allowed that man to have a private room. I am obliged to retire to my infirmary when I want peace and quiet. Like many others, I asked for similar privileges, but Herr General was his usual, inflexible self. Gottewald was his favourite. I had no idea he even had a wife and family. Isn’t that odd? I thought he was wedded to the army. You asked General Katowice, I take it?’

‘It didn’t get me far,’ I said. ‘He referred me to your report.’

Doctor Korna let out a long thoughtful sigh.

‘Which takes your enquiries nowhere,’ he said at last.

We stood in silence, face to face in the stench and the gloom.

In retrospect, it seemed as if both of us were waiting cautiously for the other to make some offer, or suggest some compromise, like hungry men bartering fish for flesh in a meagre market.

‘I may be able to point you in the right direction,’ he said, but he did not say what he had in mind.

‘Which direction is that?’ I asked.

‘You must help me, sir. You are a magistrate. You’ve been sent here on an important mission. You must have important friends.’

I thought of Dittersdorf, and even Lavedrine, though I was wise enough to wait before I spoke of the Frenchman.

‘What of it?’ I said.

‘Friends with friends in Berlin, perhaps?’

‘Perhaps,’ I echoed.

‘To be frank,’ the doctor said, moving closer, placing his hand on my arm, ‘I must get away from this place. I am being slowly poisoned here. The air . . . Can’t you smell it? The air in Kamenetz is foul! They can send me east or west, north or south, I do not care. However, Potsdam would be nice . . .’

‘If you have any information that can assist my investigation,’ I said, ‘I will do everything in my power to help you. I can give no guarantees, but I hold a promise to be a serious matter.’

‘Well said, Herr Magistrate!’ he replied, but he added nothing, waiting for me to state the conditions of our complicity.

‘What information can you add to what I know already?’ I insisted.

The doctor looked around, as if he feared some spy might be lurking behind the three metal-hooped vats that filled the far end of the room. Even by moonlight I could see that they were large.

‘Gottewald was second-in-command to General Katowice. Have you stopped to ask yourself what he was doing, running from the hounds on a cold winter morning? Such an exercise is not meant for an officer, not even the least of them. In the name of God, what was First Major Gottewald
doing
, racing half-naked at dawn over dangerous ground with a pack of trained men chasing at his heels?’

I considered this for a moment. ‘Rochus told me that there’s nothing difficult or dangerous about it . . .’

‘Those men were
not
raw recruits!’ he interposed.

‘Perhaps not,’ I said, ‘but the boy said it is a game, and nothing more.’

‘Take everything that Rochus tells you with a pinch of salt,’ the doctor warned. ‘A pinch? A shovelful! The officers at Kamenetz study theory, tactics, logistics, the strategy of warfare. They sit at tables and drink tea. They leave the “deer hunt” to Rochus and the other boys.’

He said no more, but seemed to be listening for any sound that might suggest that we had been discovered. Suddenly, turning back to me with decision, he said, ‘Come, sir. For my part of the bargain, I’ll show you the treasure of Kamenetz.’

Turning away, he pointed to the vats at the far end of the room.

‘We must be careful,’ he warned, leading me towards them. ‘We’ll need light. One minute, no more. An enemy can spot the glimmer of a candle a mile away.’

As he spoke, he dropped on one knee and sparks exploded on the floor, throwing dramatic shadows onto the wall. He stood up clasping a peculiar little device in his hand, shading a tiny, flickering flame.

‘Hold it, would you?’ he said, offering me the short length of what looked like a shorn-off gun barrel. A flint had been secured to one end with a clamp, and a length of tarred hemp passed inside the metal tube and out at the bottom. It was an ingenious little lamp.

Those vats might have been bathtubs, except for the fact that they were chest-high and covered with metal lids. Doctor Korna prepared to open one by pulling on a hinged lever. But first, he stared at me with great intensity.