Tempting Fate (34 page)

“Yes, of course,” David Bündnis agreed. He had half-risen, hesitated, then taken his seat again, looking uncertainly at Ragoczy.

“I am told you’re doing well,” Ragoczy said to Laisha, dismissing her tutor with a negligent wave of his small, beautiful hand. “David, discuss botany with the Professor for a few minutes, will you? I need a little time with my daughter.”

Laisha grinned, her brown eyes dancing. “He said I’m a good student, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did.” Ragoczy took his seat on the elderly couch before the fire, turned so that he could face her as she perched on the hearth stool. “I didn’t need him to say so, but it is always satisfying to have one’s opinions confirmed. Does it please you to be doing well?”

“If you’re happy, that’s enough,” she said, impulsively reaching for his hand.

He did not pull it away, but the smile he gave her was sad, “No, Laisha, my child, it is not enough. You are not my shadow, and I will not always be with you: what you do must be for yourself, because it is what
you
wish to do. If it is, then you will have a chance to be free and happy, which is what I want for you more than anything else. Believe this.”

“But you said you were glad I’m doing well with my studies,” she protested, her chin quivering.

“And so I am. But if you were doing well because you thought I would like it instead of liking the studies yourself, I would be sorry. Do you want to continue your instruction with Professor Vögel, or would you prefer to do something else?” His penetrating eyes were filled with kindness and he waited without impatience for her answer.

Laisha scowled into the fire, giving his question her full consideration. Her face had a faintly Tartar cast to it, and the light from the fire revealed this plainly as it moved and shifted. Absently she pulled at a loose strand of hair. After two or three minutes she looked back at Ragoczy. “I think I would like to continue studying with Professor Vögel for a while. I am not sure I will want to learn science all the time, but right now, it’s interesting to learn about the plants and other things. Later I may change my mind.” This was more of a plea than a statement.

“Tell me when you wish me to make other arrangements,” Ragoczy said fondly.

“All right.” Now that she was sure of herself, Laisha assumed a more confident air. She straightened her woolen shirt and gave Ragoczy a beguiling smile.

“You know, Laisha, you’re apt to be a handful when you’re grown.” He chuckled, and felt a twinge of regret that she would never be one of his blood.

“My mother was. My father said so,” she declared with a saucy toss of her head. Then she realized what her words meant.

Ragoczy was already leaning forward, dark eyes intense. “Laisha, do you remember? Can you tell me any more?”

Her eyes glazed with tears. “No,… no. I don’t even know what made me … Oh … I didn’t mean…” With a brief, anguished cry, she covered her face with her hands. She did not permit herself to sob, but her trembling was more distressing to Ragoczy than wailing would have been.

He slid off the sofa and dropped onto his knees beside her, taking her into his arms. “Laisha, Laisha,” he whispered to her. “My dearest child.” The sound of a step in the doorway caught his attention, and he turned with a brusque gesture to Professor Vögel so that there would be no intrusion. Satisfied that they were once again alone, Ragoczy brought Laisha’s head down to his shoulder and murmured gentle, reassuring phrases to her until her tears stopped and her arms around his neck were limp. He stood slowly, carrying her with him. Without changing his hold on her, he went to the door. “Professor,” he said in a forceful voice, “if you will?”

A few moments later the Professor emerged from the direction of the kitchen with David Bündnis close behind him. Professor Vögel was still wiping the remains of whipped cream from his mouth with a large linen handkerchief. “Well well well,” he said as he approached Ragoczy. “Poor child. Don’t be upset, little one. All of us suffer in our lives, and you have already endured the worst. Your guardian will take care of you and see that no harm comes to you.”

“That is my intention,” Ragoczy said quietly, hoping inwardly that he would be able to keep that vow.

Laisha turned her head so that she could see the other two men. “I didn’t plan to behave this way,” she said in a small, chastened voice.

“No one ever does, Laisha,” David said with an uneasy smile. “We are your friends; we don’t mind.”

Laisha gave him a long, thoughtful look, but said nothing. She pushed away from Ragoczy’s arms and dropped to her feet. After a careful adjustment of her skirt, she stared into her guardian’s eyes. “I would like to go home now.”

“Of course,” he responded. “If you will give me her hat and coat, Professor Vögel?”

“Jawohl, Herr Graf,” the Professor said as he bustled about gathering up Laisha’s hat and coat, which he held out to David Bündnis after he had made a halfhearted attempt to put them around Laisha’s shoulders. “Perhaps you’d best…”

“Yes,” David said quietly.

“She’s not an infant, gentlemen,” Ragoczy told the other two. “She is capable of dressing herself, and she hears everything you say. She is also not an invalid and does not need to be coddled.” He nodded to David and watched as Laisha took her hat and coat from her tutor and put them on. “Thank you, Bündnis. You had better get ready as well: it is cold and we’re likely to have slow going back to Schloss Saint-Germain. There has been a slide, as you have heard, and as far as I know, they have not brought the laborers to fix it.” Looking down at Laisha, he said gently, “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Papa,” she said, still obviously chagrined.

His smile widened. “Very good, my child. Bündnis?”

“In a moment, Herr Ragoczy.” He was thrusting his arms into the sleeves of his overcoat.

Ragoczy took his coat and donned it, turning up the velvet collar in anticipation of the cold outside. “Herr Professor, I thank you for your hospitality and your concern. Laisha is fortunate to have your instruction, and I am in your debt for your kindness.” He inclined his head, then went to the door, “Hurry to the car. There is a rug in the backseat and you may wrap it around you.”

The wind was sharper than when Ragoczy had arrived, and it drove the thickening snowflakes before it, scattering them in little drifts and eddies across the Professor’s porch and along the driveway. Ragoczy, Laisha, and David hurried toward the Benz, each with head bowed against the oncoming storm. The doors of the Benz were pulled open, then quickly closed. In the more open front seat, Ragoczy reached into the small leather case beside the partition to the rear seat and pulled out a black fur hat, setting it on his head so that his ears were covered.

Professor Vögel closed his door as soon as he saw that his guests were safely in the automobile; he felt a strange chill now that they were going, a chill that had little to do with the icy wind. It was not a thing he wished to examine, so he toddled back to the kitchen to get a second helping of Sachertorte and hot chocolate.

After two false starts, the Benz’s motor came to life, sputtering a little with the cold. Ragoczy eased off the brake and put the automobile into gear, going cautiously, not wishing to risk a skid on the ice that was beginning to form in the deeper ruts of the poorly-kept road. Even with this care, the Benz wallowed in the gelid mud and once nearly stalled as the front wheels encountered a wooden plank hidden beneath the surface of the road. The wheels spun, grated, then caught, and the Benz moved on.

As they drove through Geitau, Ragoczy noticed the huge brewery wagon pulled up at the inn; the team of tremendous Belgian draft horses were blowing and steaming, one of them favoring his off forefoot.

“They’re awfully mud-spattered,” David said, speaking loudly to be heard over the motor and the wind. “Do you think the road has been repaired yet, or will we be delayed?”

“We’re apt to be delayed in any case,” Ragoczy responded as he slowed, then turned and pulled into the small courtyard, keeping a fair distance from the big horses, which were showing signs of shying. He brought the Benz to a stop and called out, “Can anyone tell me if the road to Hausham has been cleared?”

The driver of the team came around the wagon and strolled over to the Benz, the large tankard of hot schnapps he carried accounting in part for his apparent disregard of the weather. “The crew of convict laborers were working on it when I came through, about an hour ago. There’s twenty men on the job, and three guards to keep an eye on them. They say it will be passable before night, but I doubt it, not with the way the temperature’s dropping. Still, they drive convicts harder than most workmen, so maybe it will be done.” He grinned at Ragoczy, showing uneven teeth. “An automobile will have to wait, if there’s any difficulty. Now me, with my team, we can forge through a slide like that. We’ve got over rough ground, I can tell you that. But automobiles, they’re not able to pull the way a team does, and they don’t understand, and so you, in your fancy Benz, will have to wait.” He thought this observation so funny that he laughed wholeheartedly, spilling some of the schnapps on his sheepskin jacket.

“Danke,” Ragoczy said tersely. “I trust that your team will be unhitched and given warm gruel, and the right wheeler’s leg attended to, or tomorrow they will not be able to forge ahead through the snow that’s coming.” He gave the teamster a polite nod and set his automobile in motion again. He admitted to himself that he was somewhat concerned. A long delay on this road would mean that they would not return to Schloss Saint-Germain until quite late at night, and Laisha, who was already hungry, would be famished. He could not believe that hunger did not awaken terrifying memories in the girl, and he wished to spare her further pain.

For a little way, all went well. The snow was mixed now with sleety rain and the wind, blocked by the shoulder of the mountains, did not cut quite so deeply as it raced through the air. Three kilometers outside of Geitau, Ragoczy pulled off the road and turned on the headlamps as a precaution, for although the afternoon was not far advanced, the sky was dark and the trees around them created deep shadows that were like twilight. Getting back into the driver’s seat, he turned to the two in the back and gave them an encouraging nod as he started up once more. Ten minutes farther on, they came to the slide, and Ragoczy brought the automobile to a halt as a burly guard in a long overcoat came up to them. He carried a lantern and a rifle.

“Good afternoon, Mein Herr,” he said, his tone belying his respectful words of greeting. “I am afraid there will have to be a wait. As you see, we are clearing the road.” He turned his lantern beam in the direction of a line of men with shovels and barrows who struggled on the muddy slope. All of them were dressed in convict clothing, with only heavy canvas jackets to protect them from the weather.

“We’re at your disposal,” Ragoczy said with just enough hauteur to cause the guard a touch of discomfort. “Who are these men? I see that they are prisoners, but what is their crime?”

The guard shrugged, and when he answered, his attitude was more subservient. “They are men, Mein Herr, who have come here from other countries. Most of them without money, all without friends. Some have fled the ideal society being built in Russia, some have left Poland. We have one or two Hungarians who have learned that they are not welcome in the country their towns have been allotted to. All of them came here, thinking that they could prey on the goodwill of Deutschland and the people, but they are mistaken. This is not Paris, where every cabdriver claims to be a Romanov prince, or Rome, where bankrupt Polish Counts are allowed to live on the honest toil of loyal Catholics. We are not willing to be hoodwinked by such men. So, as you see…”—again he directed the lantern toward the men—“we find a use for them. They may not have found the idle paradise they sought, but there will be a cleared road fairly soon, and that is important, wouldn’t you say?”

Ragoczy looked at the guard. “And what will they do when they have finished their sentences?”

“Oh, that does not concern us,” the guard answered rather stiffly. “They will have to make their way in the world like the rest of us.”

“I see.” He gazed at the men, his eyes piercing the gloom quite easily. The poor wretches, he thought, sweating and freezing at once. And what hope was there for them, if they Were not welcome in Deutschland? The guard cut into his thoughts.

“You take that fellow there,” he said, pointing the lantern at a tall, rain-sodden figure with military sideburns. “Claims to have been a hussar in Poland. He wanted to join one of our regiments, but they would not take him, of course. Not that there is much left of our regiments. Not allowed guns! Maneuvers only conducted with models of machines rather than the machines themselves! I know the French are spiteful, jealous hypocrites, with their searches and inspections!” He hefted his rifle. “The only reason I’m permitted to carry this is because I guard dangerous men, and may need to protect myself.”

“Yes, so I see,” Ragoczy remarked sardonically.

“Yes,” the guard agreed, unaware of the tone Ragoczy had used. “Now, that man there is from Greece. He was a criminal there and he was one here, but we, unlike his fellow-countrymen, were not willing to tolerate his activities. He ran a brothel, you know, and bribed the officials in his homeland by offering the services of the girls—and boys—free of charge. The judge who sentenced him warned him about trying such degraded methods again. He’s not popular with the other prisoners, they say, because he did not fight in the war. The man next to him, he’s one of the Russians. He’s something of a hard case, actually. He came here more than a year ago, and when he could not get work, he took to stealing, mostly food, but money occasionally as well. Had he had friends, the matter might have been forgotten, for they could have repaid his victims and made certain he had no opportunity to steal again. As it was, we could not let him go on. I gather that he was part of a cavalry unit at one time, but you know how things are in Russia.”

“Poor man,” Ragoczy said reflectively, recalling the times when he had been like the Russian; alone, friendless, having no money and with little chance of getting any honestly. Such days were far in his past, but the memory of them had not faded.