Down: Pinhole (24 page)

“But your head is right where it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?” she shouted over the din.

Himmler clowned around by probing his head with his hands. “Ha! So it is. Well, I was cleverer than Hitler, more intuitive, I would say. I appeared before Frederick only a month after Hitler did—yes, we died within a month of each other, both honorable suicides. I told the king that my only interest was to become his humble servant and to bring my skills as a wartime administrator to his court. I told him he was always a hero of mine and that my goal for the Third Reich was to recreate the glory of his bygone era. I sealed the deal by telling him that I had personally named our invasion of the Soviet Union, Operation Barbarossa, in his honor. He liked that immensely as it seems he hates the Russians as much as I do. But the larger issue is this: kings and führers require persistent and aggressive praise. This is something I understood completely. I asked him to indulge me for a time so I might inspect the state of Germania’s offenses and defenses and make some recommendations. He accepted this and gave me his protection. In the course of my investigations I found the realm lacking in certain command and control functions and with no comprehensive way to develop new weapons and capabilities. Hell has all the natural resources of Earth but it lacks intellectual capital. The growth of civilization is stunted here. I aim to change that.” He swallowed hard as if the exertion of all the shouting had strained his throat.

“How, pray tell?”

“Up until now it has been slow and incremental, finding a person here, a person there who has some special skills I can utilize. This steam car, as simple and archaic as it may be to modernists such as ourselves, is the pinnacle of what I have been able to achieve. This is pathetic although the steam engine was the precursor to many great achievements. Still, the pace is too slow. Look at this!” He parted his jacket to reveal his holstered pistol. “A flintlock! I can’t even find competent modern gunsmiths. But now I have something which I hope will enable me to leapfrog our enemies and allow Germania to reign supreme throughout our world.”

“And what is that?”

“You, Frau Doktor. It is you.”

She was already sitting as far away from him as possible on the short bench but she pressed herself harder against the side of the car. She decided to stop talking and he seemed content to rest his vocal cords.

The day brightened to its usual pale shade of gray and she got a good view of the road for the first time. It was level and fairly smooth, made of hard-packed dirt, graded to a gentle concavity to allow for the runoff of rainfall. She imagined that Himmler might have been the one to arrange for crews of forced labor to build it for his precious steam cars. He had a knack for organized labor, didn’t he? After all, he’d been the architect of the slave labor camps during the Second World War. She wondered whether she could ever find it within herself to stick a knife into a man’s throat, but if she could, Himmler’s would be a good place to start.

After a while he offered her some cold meat and bread from a hamper that she passed to JoJo. She had no appetite. She was desperately tired and as she dozed, she made sure to lean away from her seatmate, lest her head wind up on his shoulder.

It was a five or six hour noisy and bumpy journey to the Rhine and the heart of Germania. The convoy of three vehicles stopped a few times for the call of nature and for water to top up the boilers. Emily gave some thought to running away but she doubted it would serve any purpose other than getting herself into even more trouble at the hands of roving bands of heathens.

And then, after a two-hour final leg, Himmler nudged her awake and pointed his small, boyish hand. There, high on a green bluff over a mighty river was a towering, turreted castle, made of pale, almost flesh-colored stone.

“This is one of the king’s many castles,” Himmler said, almost proudly, as if he had played a role in its creation. “He favors it above all others. You know, on Earth, this was the precise location of the Marksburg Castle which was built a century or two after Frederick’s time. And as on Earth, it is a naturally defensible position. I believe it was perhaps inevitable that the king would decide to build his own fortress here. Who knows, maybe some of the same laborers who built Marksburg wound up in Hell to build this one, which, I can guarantee you, is an excellent facsimile to the castle I well remember from my youth.”

JoJo turned and asked Emily a question.

“What did she say?” Himmler barked irritably.

“She asked how we’re going to get across.”

“Ah, just upriver a way, there is a good wooden bridge, strong enough to support the motor cars, one at a time. The king was not so keen to allow invaders so easy a means to cross but I persuaded him that allowing passage of the steam autos offered a strategic advantage. We can always destroy the bridge if need be.”

When the time came to make the crossing, Emily held her breath and while the car chugged slowly across she sneaked a glimpse of the swift, murky waters of the Rhine gorge. Once across it was a matter of minutes until they navigated a windy, upwardly spiraling road to reach the castle walls. A massive drawbridge gate was winched down and the car rolled through a dark, vaulted tunnel through another gate. Soldiers waved them on and they entered a broad courtyard. The steam boilers decompressed.

Emily got out of the car and took some small pleasure in the sudden stillness. Above her, a lone bird of prey, a kite perhaps, soared on the thermals searching for food. Its solo quest made her melancholy. She felt so very far away from home. Then she caught herself and bore down. She needed to keep sharp, stay focused. To get back to Dartford and to overcome the daunting obstacles that inevitably awaited her, she couldn’t afford to succumb to melancholia.

Just as she registered this thought, a man appeared, not young, not old. He came gliding through a palace door in a monk’s robe, so pale and thin, he seemed like an apparition. He locked eyes on her, as if she were the only one in the courtyard and then he did something that was wholly unexpected. He smiled. It wasn’t a smile of evil or cunning or lechery, the usual fare she had become accustomed to, but a smile of kindness.

Himmler called to him but the man ignored him and went to Emily and bowed his head in a show of humility. He asked if she knew his language and when she nodded, he seemed pleased and launched into a speech, his German a mix of archaic and modern constructions.

“I welcome you to Germania. I am Rainald van Dassel, the king’s chancellor. I am sorry we seized you as we did but I can assure you, your treatment here will be better than what that scoundrel, the Duke of Guise, had in store for you.”

Himmler interrupted the welcome address. “Clovis dealt with Guise. One more French shark we will not have to contend with. Is the king well? I want to show him my trophy.”

Rainald’s countenance hardened. “She is not a trophy, Herr Himmler, she is a woman, who I imagine is bewildered, tired and hungry. Frederick will see her soon enough. First, we will offer our best hospitality.” He cast his gaze on JoJo. “Who is this?”

“She’s my friend,” Emily said. “She’s French. She was one of Guise’s women.”

Rainald’s face softened again. “Ah, friendship. That is unusual here, something to be treasured.” He waved his arms at the massive palace and all the outbuildings. “We have room enough for one more soul.”

“Well, I am going to have a wash,” Himmler declared. “Make sure you send for me at the appointed time, Rainald. I am the architect of this operation, not you. You would do well to remember that.”

Rainald turned away from Himmler and asked the women to follow him. Soldiers and guards appeared, as if attracted by Emily’s scent, leering at the women as they passed. Rainald saw their stares and shouted at them, forcing the men to rush off, their eyes cast down. Emily realized the reason Rainald looked like he was gliding. It was his coarse robe that obscured his feet as it brushed the ground. They entered the palace through a small door that opened to a dark, empty hall. Rainald gave a shout and an enormous, pudgy man, with a bald pate and a long, scraggly fringe appeared, holding a torch.

“This is Andreas,” Rainald said. “He will attend to you. You do not have to worry about his intentions. Frederick made him a eunuch a very long time ago so he could safely shepherd his concubine.”

Andreas grinned. His few remaining teeth were brown as nuts. “No balls,” he said, pointing to his crotch. “No worries.”

The eunuch took them up several flights of stone stairs until they entered an ample room suffused with light, its window offering an expansive view over the river gorge. There was a bed, a chest, and a separate privy chamber.

“Above us is another room,” Rainald said, pointing at JoJo. “You will go there now.”

Emily said she’d prefer staying with JoJo but Rainald answered that this was not possible. Emily touched her shoulder and told her not to worry then Andreas led JoJo away.

Rainald stayed behind. “Andreas will bring you food, drink, and fresh clothes, and will prepare a tub for your bathing. Later you will see the king as he is most anxious to meet you and learn how it is you were able to enter this world of ours without first knowing death.”

Emily was not going to let him leave without asking some of her questions. “You’ve been a gentleman. I do appreciate that. Will you give me your assurance that we will not be abused?”

Rainald raised an eyebrow and she saw that his eyes were green, like ripe olives. “You are under my personal protection. No one will lay a hand on you. The only man in this kingdom I do not command is the king and I can assure you that he is no threat to your person.”

“What about her?” she said.

“Your friend is an ordinary Heller, though her skin color and womanly attributes makes her rare and thus desirable. I was not expecting her but now that she is here, she will be put to good use by the dukes and princes of the court.”

Emily was defiant. “Unless you protect her too I will not utter a word to your king or anyone else. I’m Scottish, you know, and we can be very stubborn.”

Rainald smiled again. “Very well. I will undertake her protection as well. Is there anything else?”

“Yes there is. I don’t want to have anything more to do with Heinrich Himmler.”

Rainald sighed. “I share your views. He is most foul. Let me tell you a brief story. I was King Frederick’s chancellor in life. I was a man of God, the archbishop of Cologne, before I was drawn into affairs of state. Frederick was a most worthy king, a unifier, a great statesman whom I greatly admired. In truth, I was surprised that he, let alone myself, would have descended to Hell upon our passings. After all, he was the Holy Roman Emperor! I can only imagine that in my case, a brutal response to an uprising among our subjects in the city-state of Milano sealed my fate. Or perhaps one or two other difficult incidents. But I digress. I came to Hell a decade before the king and helped him gain the throne of Germania from a barbarian warlord. Frederick has ruled for a thousand years now. I have been at his side as his principal advisor all that time and the most serious challenge to my authority has only come in the last years from this Himmler. He has wheedled himself into a position of considerable power with promises of new weapons and modes of warfare. The king has even made him vice-chancellor! Now my days are spent guarding against a sneak attack from this snake. If the king were not so taken by his promises I would have him thrown from the castle keep into the river. So, I will do what I can to keep you away from Himmler, but I can only go so far with my assurances.”

“If he touches me, I’ll rip out his eyes.”

Rainald seemed to enjoy the imagery. “And if I see them rolling on the floor, I will emphatically stamp on them with my shoe.”

John jumped from the rowing boat and sloshed his way onto the pebbly beach. To a man, every member of the landing party paused to remove boots and empty out water and sand. A second boat discharged its crew of Captain Hawes and a troop of armed marines. Both vessels were heaved onto the shore and securely beached. The
Hellfire
stood proudly at anchor a few hundred yards off the wild coast of Francia.

John looked up at the white, chalky cliffs. They were less imposing than those of Dover but nonetheless striking. He tried to get his bearings. They had to be at or near Calais, where on Earth, the Germans had mistakenly expected the allied invasion in World War II. The cliffs were sheer at this point. They certainly weren’t going to get onto the plain from here, not without climbing gear. John told Luca, Simon, and Antonio that they would have to hike up the coast to a point where the cliffs tapered off.

Captain Hawes approached and they all agreed to travel together for a while. The galleon was not provisioned for an extended journey and Hawes intended to lead his troops to pillage the first village they encountered, secure pack horses, then return to the
Hellfire
and await John’s return. If all went according to plan, John would find Emily, bring her back to the ship, and they would cross the channel to return to Dartford. Then the
Hellfire
would sail for Italy to join forces with this mysterious man who offered hope.

“How long will you need to find your lady?” Hawes asked.

John passed the question to his new comrades.

Simon said, “If we get horses then we should be in Paris in two days. If we can free her quickly then, well, let’s say four or five days from now.”

John nodded warily. That would give them a cushion of a couple of days until the second MAAC start-up. He hoped the plan would play out that way but in this
terra incognita
he didn’t feel able to handicap the odds.

Hawes gave his men the order and they began trudging along the uneven beachscape. They had only been trekking for a minute or so when John heard a soft, high-pitched sound, no more than an atmospheric disturbance. One of Hawes’s men jerked around, an arrow piercing his back at an acute downward angle.

Then the arrows fell like rain.

John instinctively ran toward the base of the cliff to cut off the angle of attack from on high. One group of men joined him; another chose to follow Hawes to some protective boulders a short distance away. Another of Hawes’s men was hit in the arm, and as he ran for cover he pulled out the arrow spouting a stream of invectives. Then the musket fire started and the lead balls began splattering the beach.