The Mastersinger from Minsk (29 page)

Ignoring me, he speaks softly to Helena. “I need a place to stay tonight —”

Helena needs no time to consider the request. “Of course,” she replies.

"I
suppose you are eager to return to Russia as soon as possible now that you've accomplished your ‘mission,'” I said to Socransky. It was the next morning and we were in the lobby of the Empress Eugénie. Socransky had just set down a lone piece of luggage and was folding an overcoat which was too bulky to be packed. “That coat will come in handy back home even though it's summertime,” I joked. “Fortunately the travel documents I took the trouble to obtain are still valid, and there's a train leaving tomorrow night —”

He shook his head.

Puzzled, I said, “I don't understand. I would have thought you couldn't wait to get back. I can't believe you plan to remain here in Munich!” As I said this I happened to look over at Helena. Something about the expression on her face told me she knew something I didn't know. Quietly I asked, figuring one or the other would respond, “Does this mean you … I mean the
two
of you … have plans?” Even as I put the question to them I felt as though suddenly I had become hollowed out, as though from this moment on the core of my own existence would consist of nothing but an empty cavity.

Helena and Socransky exchanged quick glances, each inviting the other to speak up, both hesitant. I said, “For God's sake, somebody say
some
thing!”

At last he spoke up. “The fact is, Preiss, I cannot go back to Russia, much as I wish to. Russia and I have parted company, you might say.”

I had difficulty taking his answer seriously. “You're joking, of course. Don't tell me you're some kind of revolutionary. What? Are you conspiring to get rid of the Czar?”

“I wish it were as simple as that,” Socransky said, looking, I thought, too sober.

“Well, at least you haven't lost your sense of humour despite all that has gone on,” I said. “I can see the headlines now:
JEWISH TENOR BRINGS DOWN IMPERIAL DYNASTY
. You know what they say, Socransky: Revolutionaries don't burn down palaces; they move
into
them!”

I thought this would bring a laugh or at least a smile. Instead he looked almost melancholy. He paused, seemingly on the edge of making some pronouncement, then, looking me straight in the eye he said, “The reason I cannot return to Russia is that people like me are now considered undesirables.”

“Why? Because you're Jewish?”

“No, being Jewish has nothing to do with it.”

“Then why?”

“Because … because I happen to prefer the company of men.”

“Now I
know
you're joking. You are a born actor, Socransky. A comic actor at that! Anyway, I've seen how women react to you … the effect you have on them. Mind you, Socransky, for a split second there you almost had me —”

“Stop, Hermann! Just stop …
please
!” Helena interrupted. “This is painful enough. You're only making it worse.”

“Helena, you mean you knew about this? And you said not a word to me about it? But I thought all along —”

“Don't blame Helena, Preiss,” Socransky said. “She has kept my secret.”

“Since
when
?”

Helena filled in the answer. “Since the night I visited him in his rooms. Remember, Hermann? The wine? The cake? The letter?”

I stared at Helena for a moment, then at Socransky. To him I said, “But I thought you were in love with her?”

“I do love her, yes. As a dear friend. The person with whom I
am
in love lives in Russia, a young composer. Perhaps you've heard of him? His name is Tchaikovsky. Peter Tchaikovsky. We met when I was a student and he an instructor at the Conservatory in Moscow. Unfortunately, people like us … well, need I say more, Preiss?”

I turned to Helena. “I had a vision of myself standing alone on the platform at the Ostbahnhof waving goodbye to the two of you.”

To Socransky I said, “Where will you go then, if Russia is out of bounds?”

“I leave today for Paris. I have friends there, also refugees from Russia for the same reason. The atmosphere in Paris is a little more friendly for us. My ticket is already arranged, but I could certainly use those travel documents, if you'd be so kind.”

“But can you get work there? Can you earn a living? It's a gamble isn't it?”

“If you are a Jew living in Russia every day is a gamble. Will they leave us be? Will they come after us? We are born gamblers. My coming to Munich was a gamble. What if Wagner had chosen someone else to sing the role?”

“And if he hadn't chosen you, Socransky, would you nevertheless have found some way to kill him?”

Socransky's face broke into an inscrutable smile as he thought of an answer. Finally he said, “What do
you
think, Inspector?”

“Damn it, Socransky! There you go, answering a question with one of your own!” I shouted back.

The young tenor took a step forward and gently said to Helena, “Give me your hand —” Taking hold of it, he placed her hand in mine, folding the two hands together ceremoniously, like a priest. “There now,” he said. “With the powers vested in me by the God of vast improbabilities, I hereby declare the two of you inseparable.”

I thought I saw tears forming in the corners of Helena's eyes but a moment later a faint half-smile played about her lips, and in her eyes I caught what looked like a flicker of surrender.

Could she possibly be resigning herself to yet more of
me
? I wondered.

S
everal
of the principal characters in this novel actually existed and were part of the rich tapestry of classical music in the Germany of the mid-1800s. Other characters, and the plot and subplot, are purely fictitious. I acknowledge with gratitude the following research sources which enabled me to blend historical facts with invented people and events:

Michael Steen,
The Lives and Times of the Great Composers

Ernest Newman,
Stories of the Great Operas

Nicholas Slonimsky,
Perfect Pitch: A Life Story

John Culshaw,
Wagner: The Man and His Music

Rosamund Bartlett,
Wagner and Russia

The Diaries Of Richard Fricke,
Wagner in Rehearsal

Barry Millington,
Wagner

In a sense the story of Richard Wagner has continued long after his death on February 13, 1883. I therefore acknowledge as well many pertinent essays and articles that appeared during the writing of this novel in newspapers including
The New York Times
,
Globe and Mail
, and the English-language
Forward
, a New York newspaper which, in both its Yiddish and English editions, has been an essential part of my family for two generations.

A
s
always for their advice, encouragement, and assistance, my thanks to Beverley Slopen, Joanne DeLio, Henry Campbell, Malcolm Lester, and my editors Sylvia McConnell and Cheryl Hawley.

Copyright © Morley Torgov, 2012

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.

Editor: Sylvia McConnell

Copy Editor: Cheryl Hawley

Design: Jennifer Scott

Epub Design: Carmen Giraudy

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Torgov, Morley, 1927-

The mastersinger from Minsk [electronic resource] : an Inspector Hermann Preiss mystery/Morley Torgov.

Electronic monograph.
Issued also in print format.

ISBN 978-1-4597-0202-8

1. Wagner, Richard, 1813-1883--Fiction. I. Title.

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and the
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, and the
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.

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