Marianne followed her up a wide marble staircase, to a room on the floor above, and when Isabel opened the door, Marianne could see an enormous canopied bed with a flowered pink bedspread and beautiful pink satin chairs. It was a room fit for a princess or a queen, and without thinking, Marianne put her arms around Isabel and kissed her cheek and thanked her.

"I've always wanted a daughter," Isabel confessed, and then showed Marianne a handsome white marble bathroom with a huge tub. And a few minutes later, a young Irish maid in a black uniform with a lace ap.r.o.n and cap came to draw a bath for her, and then with a flurry of hugs and promises to see her later and telling her to rest as long as she wanted, she left Marianne alone, as she walked around the beautiful room, and stood staring out the window at the grounds. It was the most impressive place she had ever seen, but as she stood there, and saw swans on the lake, Marianne missed her father and their drafty old schloss. This was magnificent, but it wasn't home. Isabel was so nice, and everything was perfect, in spite of the war. But as she gazed at the gardens that Isabel was so proud of and worked so hard on, the tears rolled down Marianne's cheeks, and all she wanted was to go home.

Chapter 19.

After lunch with Isabel, on silver trays in the morning room again, and meeting Charles that afternoon, whom she vaguely remembered now, too, Marianne had dinner with them in the enormous dining room, where they sat at one end of a vast table, which Isabel said could seat forty-two. When Marianne went to her room that night, she wrote to her father via his friend in New York, telling him that everything was fine, how beautiful the house was and how nice they were to her, and thanking him for getting her there. She said it cryptically, so the censors wouldn't get suspicious, and it wouldn't cause trouble for her father. She then wrote to Toby and told him the truth, that her father had wanted to get her out of Germany, to come to friends of his in England, so she was in exile now too. She said she was in a beautiful place, and the people were really nice to her, but she missed her father and home terribly, even if it was dangerous there. She didn't mention that soldiers were living in his house, so as not to upset him. But she said she understood now how lonely he must have felt at first, and how hard it must have been to join the circus. She said living with the Beaulieus was nothing like a circus, but she felt like Alice in Wonderland down the rabbit hole. Nothing seemed real to her now, except the war. She told him about traveling through Belgium for a few hours the day before, and how nerve-racking it had been. She asked him to write to her, and told him how homesick she was, which she hadn't said to her father so as not to worry him or seem ungrateful. But she said she had never felt so out of place in her life. And she mentioned that her hosts, the Beaulieus, had two sons in the RAF, whom they were very proud of, but she hadn't met them yet. She even told him about the dogs and how her father had traded Favory the stallion for her travel papers. And she asked William the butler to mail both letters for her the next day, and he a.s.sured her he would.

It took her letter a month to reach Toby in New York, at their first stop on tour. Their mail was sent from Sarasota to various stops. And Toby was shocked when he got her letter, to hear that she had left Germany too. He told his father about it, when they were brushing the horses that afternoon, before their evening performance at Madison Square Garden.

"He sent her to England?" Nick was surprised by what Toby told him. Clearly, things were even worse than he thought if Alex had sent Marianne away. He knew Alex wouldn't have done it otherwise. "Did she say who she's staying with? People her father knows, or strangers somewhere in the English countryside?" Nick was curious, and he could only imagine how lonely Alex must be without her. He felt sorry for him now too.

"She's staying in some kind of castle," Toby said vaguely, "with people called the Beaulieus. They have two sons and a lot of dogs." He had picked up all the information that seemed pertinent to him, and Nick laughed.

"Oh my G.o.d, Charles," Nick said, recognizing the name immediately. "I went to school with him, although he's a few years older than I am. They're lovely people, and Marianne is right. They have an enormous castle. Well, she'll certainly be comfortable there while she waits out the war. Alex couldn't have picked better people to send her to. Isabel will love her to death. She's a sweet woman," Nick said with a nostalgic smile, thinking of what odd lives they all led now. He and the boys were in the circus, Marianne was in England with their old school friends, and Alex was all alone. Nick was even more worried about him now, knowing how terribly he would miss her. At least he was with his boys, no matter how odd their life was, performing in a circus. And he was happy with Christianna. He had never been as happy in his life. And now that her family knew about him, they had accepted him, and they were very nice to him and the boys. They had dinner with her family often.

Nick got his own letter from Alex a week later, which was cryptic but essentially told the same story. He didn't mention trading Favory for Marianne's safe pa.s.sage out, but Nick guessed accurately that there had been some fancy footwork involved. At least she'd gotten out. Alex said he was still waiting for confirmation from Charles, via New York, but he was hoping she was all right. Nick actually knew of her safe arrival before Alex did, which he knew must be hard on Alex.

And just after he got the letter in April, they heard that Hitler had invaded Norway and Denmark. And the RAF was bombing German ships off the coast of Norway, and German airfields. All-out war was on. And a month later, when the circus was in Pennsylvania, the news was far worse. Hitler had invaded France, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg. And five days later, Holland surrendered to the n.a.z.is. Hitler was devouring Europe. And in England, Winston Churchill had become prime minister.

Nick talked about the news sometimes with Christianna. It seemed as though nothing could stop the n.a.z.is, or hadn't yet, and it was becoming impossible to believe that Europe would recover. And he worried about Alex more than ever, especially now that he was alone. He wondered what he did now, other than care for his horses. Nick's own life at the circus was full, with his boys, and Christianna, and their rehearsals and performances and traveling on tour. He still hadn't told Alex about her, and felt guilty about it. And now that Marianne was in England, she and Toby were corresponding more often. It was easier getting letters between the States and England. Alex's letters to them, and to his daughter, had to go by a far more circuitous route, still via New York, since the United States hadn't entered the war.

Marianne met Charles and Isabel's younger son, Simon, in May, two months after she got there. He was twenty-two, flying fighter planes in the RAF, and he had fallen in love with a Canadian army nurse in London, whom he'd met at a party hosted by his squadron, and Isabel said he was crazy about. He was very nice to Marianne when he met her, although he only stayed with his parents for one night, and was anxious to get back to London. He was stationed at Biggin Hill Airfield outside London.

And she met their older son, although only by a year, Edmund, in June when he came to spend a long weekend with them on leave. He was an RAF pilot, too, and flew Wellingtons, on special missions. He had already run reconnaissance missions over top secret targets in Germany seven times. Isabel worried constantly about his missions. She treated them all like children, and Edmund and Marianne laughed about it one afternoon when he invited her to take a walk on the grounds. He looked like his father, but he had the kindness and easy laughter of his mother, and he asked Marianne if she was very lonely there. She never said it to his mother, but she still was. And homesick for her father.

"It's not home for you, after all. And we must all seem very strange. This isn't your house, or your language, or your country. It's quite normal to be homesick," he said sympathetically. "And this is such a big, drafty old place," he said, referring to the remarkable castle he'd grown up in.

"I feel so guilty when I get sad," she admitted. He was easy to talk to, and strikingly handsome. He had dark hair and green eyes, and he looked very dashing in his uniform. He treated her like a friend, and she had fun doing things with him when he was home for the weekend. He took her fishing at a nearby lake, and walking on the moors, and he taught her to milk a cow on one of their farms, which she had never done on their own. Their lives had been similar growing up, except that his home was far grander than hers. But he was simple and unpretentious and down to earth, and she liked that about him. He reminded her a little of Toby, except that he was four years older than she was, instead of two years younger, and he treated her like a little kid most of the time.

"I'm nineteen!" she complained to him. "Not twelve!" He even raced her down the main alley in their garden after they made a bet as to who could run faster. "You cheated!" she accused him, laughing and out of breath.

"I did not!" And then he got her lost in their maze, and she threatened his life if he didn't get her out of it after an hour in the sun, and he finally took mercy on her and showed her the way out. They enjoyed each other like two children while he was there, and Isabel commented to Charles again what a good girl she was, and how much Edmund was enjoying her. She thought that Marianne was a good stress reliever for him after the tension of his missions. And Isabel was happy to see him so relaxed, and Marianne looking happier at last. She'd been sad ever since she'd arrived.

"She's not a girl, Izzie," her husband corrected her. "She's a woman, and a very pretty one at that. Our son's not blind, you know. I'm sure he's noticed it too."

"I don't think so," she said innocently. "They've been playing like children for two days." It had done them both good. By the end of the weekend, Marianne wasn't as homesick and Edmund had gotten a breather from his flying missions over Germany. Marianne was sad to see him leave on Sunday afternoon.

"Who am I going to play with when you leave?" she said mournfully when he came to say goodbye. He was wearing his uniform again, and looked much more grown up than he had while playing on the grounds with her. She liked him better as a playmate than all dressed up.

"You'll have to entertain yourself, I'm afraid," he said with a boyish smile. "Or chase the dogs around the lake. You can milk the cows again, if you like." But none of it would be as much fun without him. They had an easy time being together, and had had a few serious conversations about the war. He was touched that she had grown up without a mother, and seemed very normal in spite of it. And they had gone riding one morning, and he was impressed by what a skilled horsewoman she was. He didn't admit it to her, but she rode better than he did.

He promised to come back the next time he was on leave, and the house seemed too quiet without him after he left. Marianne said as much to Isabel, who regaled her with stories of all the mischief her boys had gotten into when they were young. She agreed that the house was awfully serious and sedate without their antics.

In the days after Edmund's visit, Italy entered the war against Britain and France. And France fell to the Germans. Marianne was grateful that she had left Germany when she did. She couldn't have gotten out now through Belgium, since it was occupied. And she doubted that the colonel would have given her safe pa.s.sage, even in exchange for a Lipizzaner stallion. Her father had written to her that the colonel now rode all over the county on Favory, which always made him smile, and made him think of her.

And Isabel said frequently that she hated to think of Paris in the hands of the Germans, it was such a beautiful city. And by the end of June, there were photographs in the press of Hitler touring Paris, which enraged her even further. And General de Gaulle was recognized as the leader of the Free French Forces, as opposed to Marshal Petain, who led the Vichy government, whom Isabel considered traitors for handing over France so easily to the Germans. At least de Gaulle was willing to put up a fight and was organizing the Free French from London.

Isabel, Charles, and Marianne were hoping that the boys would come home again in July, but the Battle of Britain began, and they were too busy flying retaliatory missions and never got leave. And a month later in August, the Germans started bombing airfields, and there were daytime raids and bombing missions over England, and toward the end of August, for the first time, the Luftwaffe bombed central London. Simon called home afterward, and with strong emotion in his voice, he told his mother that the young nurse he'd been seeing had been killed. He sounded devastated, and Isabel was very sorry for him.

And two days after the bombing in London, the RAF bombed Berlin, and they'd had no confirmation of it, but Isabel had a feeling that Edmund was part of that mission. And he finally came home for two days after that. He hadn't been home in more than two months by then, and they were all happy to see him. Simon hadn't been back since his girlfriend was killed, but he hadn't had any time off. And they were grateful to see Edmund alive and in one piece. He looked tired and admitted that he hadn't slept much recently, but he was in good spirits.

He and Marianne went swimming in the lake, but this time they had more serious conversations than before, about the war, and about dying, and living with constant uncertainty. He said he was glad she wasn't in London, that the devastation had been awful. He said that seeing that and all the people who had been injured made it easier for him to fly bombing missions over Germany, although he hated the idea that he would hurt women and children and civilians and not just army bases and military targets. He seemed more serious to Marianne than he had in June. It was a hard way to grow up.

"And you?" he asked her gently. "Are you still as homesick?" She had been there for six months by then, and she had gotten more used to it, and loved his mother.

"She's such a good person," Marianne said with open admiration of Isabel. "I feel badly sometimes that they're stuck with me. It could be years before I go home." Sometimes it embarra.s.sed her to be such a burden for them. And Charles had to give her spending money, which her father planned to repay later, but she felt awkward to be staying for so long. "You really need to win this war, so I can go home," she teased Edmund, and he smiled as they strolled through the gardens.

"I rather like the idea of your being here," he said, as he looked at her. "I like it very much in fact, so maybe I won't win the war quite yet." He took her hand and held it as they walked along. She looked surprised, but he hadn't been as playful this time. The war was fraying everyone's nerves, even Izzie's, who was constantly worried now about her sons. They all wanted the war to be over, especially Marianne, who was anxious about her father.

Before he left, Edmund took Marianne out for a walk again, and looked at her seriously. "If something happens to me, take care of my mum, will you, Marianne? She loves you, and it would be very hard on her if something happens to one of us, me or Simon." It was an awesome responsibility he was giving her, and then he startled her even more. "Actually, I thought I should let you know, before I leave, that my mum isn't the only one who's fallen in love with you. I think I have too. I haven't stopped thinking about you since June." For a moment, Marianne didn't know what to say. Until then, she had thought of him as a friend, like Toby. She wondered if facing death every day made him more intense about everything, but as he gazed at her, she felt a stirring, too, and the next thing she knew, she was in his arms and they were kissing. She was breathless when they came up for air, and she looked at him seriously too.

"Please stay alive, Edmund.... I think I love you too." It had all happened so quickly, and he was certainly handsome, but she loved his boyishness and his love of fun, his great sense of humor, and his kindness. He was a lot like his mother.

"I'll do my best, and now that we've got that worked out, I really ought to tell you that I don't *think' I love you, I know I do. I just didn't want to frighten you when I said it."

"Thank you," she said with a shy smile, her blond hair tousled and framing her face like an angel. "I love you too. And I meant what I said. Please stay alive, I need you." She had lost too many people she cared about now, and she had just found him-she didn't want to lose him.

"I'm not going to die," he said quietly. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"Is that a promise?" she asked, facing him, as they approached the house again.

"A solemn promise," he said, staring her in the eyes.

"I'm going to hold you to it."

"You do that." He kissed her then and held her in his arms for a moment, wanting to feel her next to him. "I'll come back as soon as I can. They're not giving me much time off right now, but I'll come back as soon as they'll let me." She nodded, and they kissed for a last time and then walked back into the house with a look of innocence that didn't fool his father for a minute, but disappointed his mother.

"She's such a pretty girl, and so sweet," she complained to her husband, after Edmund left. "I don't know why he's not interested in her. He treats her like a little sister."

Her husband burst out laughing at her comment. "My darling, I love you, but you are quite blind. I think he's head over heels in love with her, he just doesn't want us to know it." He knew his son better than she did.

"Do you think so?" Isabel was shocked. "Does she know it?" She was amazed.

"I'm sure she does. I've never known Edmund to be interested in your gardens. And he keeps taking Marianne out to look at them. I daresay they're doing something else out there than admiring your roses."

"Really?" She stared at him in astonishment. "Well, I certainly hope you're right. I'll be so disappointed if you aren't. They'd make a very handsome couple, don't you think? Very pretty offspring."

"I think you're getting a bit ahead of yourself," he reminded her. "I said I thought he's in love with her, not that they're getting married next week."

"Well, as long as you think he's in love with her, that will do for now. It would suit me very well, though. She wouldn't have to go back to Germany, and she could stay and keep me company here. And after the war, they could live here."

"You have it all worked out, don't you?" he teased her. "Maybe you should let them organize it for a bit, just in the beginning."

"Well, I might," she said pensively. "I just don't want him to miss an opportunity. She's a wonderful girl."

"I daresay he thinks so too. He's not a fool, you know. He sees her and talks to her, too, not just you. And I do agree with you on that-she's a lovely girl. I feel so sorry for Alex, it must be miserable in Germany now."

"At least he's out in the country the way we are. I wouldn't want to live in a city right now, with all these bombings, in any country."

Two weeks later, the Germans bombed London, Southampton, Bristol, Cardiff, Liverpool, and Manchester, and Britain had taken a heavy hit.

Three weeks after that, Germany invaded Romania, which upset a number of people at the circus. There were many Romanian gymnasts and jugglers in the show, and they were suddenly as worried as everyone else. Thanks to Hitler, the news was terrible from all over Europe. For Americans, it was still someone else's war, and they had no intention of getting involved, but most of the cast of the circus were from countries that were being severely affected. It put a damper on everyone's spirits, and as they wended their way through the last week of the tour, a pall fell on the mood of the entire crew.

And in November, when they got back to Sarasota, Nick and his two boys had been in America, and with the circus, for two years. It was hard to believe, and he had been in love with Christianna for almost as long. At seventeen, Toby seemed like an American boy by then, and his English was almost perfect, and Lucas, at eight, felt and acted as if he had been a circus child forever. He could barely remember any other life, and sometimes Nick felt that way too. And he had settled into comfortable routines in the circus. He and Christianna were still the stars of the show.

The tour had been successful, and they'd done well, but everyone was happy to be back in Florida for the winter. The boys were back in school and Nick could hardly wait for some time off to spend with Christianna. He had invited her to go to New York for a long weekend with him, and she loved the idea. And as they had before, they asked the Ukrainian girls to cover for them.

"Why don't you two just get married instead of sneaking around all the time?" one of the girls asked her, and Christianna shrugged.

"We're not ready," she said blithely, but it had crossed her mind too. But she suspected that Nick felt he didn't have enough to give her, or enough security saved up. He was much older than she was, and very responsible about things like that. He wanted to provide handsomely for a wife, or at least better than he could now. And he thought they had time, because she was only twenty-three years old. She seemed like a baby to him, and it always shocked him to realize that she was only six years older than Toby. And in Nick's mind, it gave him more time to save some money.

He and his children spent Christmas with the Markovich family that year. They had Christmas dinner together, and he brought two bottles of vodka since he knew now just how much Christianna's brothers could drink.

They were all in the Christmas show together, and her brothers teased him now whenever they walked past him, and they were no longer surprised when Nick stood by breathlessly whenever she was on the high wire. He knew he'd never get used to it, but at least now when he watched her, most of the time he didn't feel sick.

And as the year drew to a close, while they all enjoyed their winter break, Nick made good on his promise to take her to New York between Christmas and New Year's. They had no performances scheduled, so they could manage the time away.

They stayed at a little hotel near Madison Square Garden, and walked around Times Square. He took her to see the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall, and she loved it. And it snowed while they were there. It reminded Nick of Germany, and he took her for a hansom cab ride in Central Park. It looked like a Christmas card, and when they finally went back to Florida, they were sad to leave. It had been another perfect trip.

Edmund managed to get three days off over Christmas, too, although Simon couldn't and was still flying bombing missions over Germany. At least Charles and Isabel had one of their boys home, and they were grateful for that. Edmund came straight to Hertfordshire as soon as he got leave. And Marianne was as happy to see him as his parents were. The moment he saw her, he picked her up and swept her off her feet and spun her around.

"I have missed you so b.l.o.o.d.y much!" he said, and she laughed. She hadn't seen him in over a month, and his last visit had been as romantic as the one before. They had spent most of their time kissing and making plans. And this time, after lunch the day he got back, Edmund spent some time alone with his mother. And whatever they talked about, Marianne noticed that he seemed very pleased. He and his parents got on extremely well, better than his younger brother, who was more independent and more standoffish and didn't come home as often. Edmund had his mother's warm, affectionate nature. Simon was just more reserved, and more like Charles.

It snowed the night Edmund got home, and he took Marianne out for a walk in their park. She made s...o...b..a.l.l.s and threw them at him, and he retaliated in kind, and pelted her with them from behind a hedge.

"Stop that! That's not fair!" she shouted at him. "I'm a girl!" They were both red-faced and laughing with snow matted in their hair when he came out from behind the hedge, grabbed her, and kissed her.

"Thank you for reminding me," he said, as he kissed her again. "I almost forgot." And he kissed her so lovingly that everything else went out of her head, as they stood in the falling snow. She forgot how much she missed Germany, and her father, and Christmas at home. All she could think of, as he held her, was how much she loved him. And he had kept his promise, and was still alive. She worried about him every day, and prayed for his safe return from his missions. And so far, he was doing fine. "I love you, Marianne," he said softly, and then smiling at her, he dropped onto one knee and looked up at her with a gentle expression as he took her hand. "Marianne von Hemmerle," he said solemnly, "will you do me the honor of marrying me? I would be very, very happy if you will." She looked at him in amazement, and nodded silently as tears sprang to her eyes, and suddenly she felt an acute pang of missing her father again, wishing that she could share this with him, other than in a letter that would take forever to reach him, if it even did. But she knew he'd approve because of how much he liked the Beaulieus, and would be happy to know she was marrying their son. She felt sure of it, even though she was only nineteen. But they were all growing up quickly in the war.

"Yes," she whispered breathlessly, as the snow fell on her eyelashes and her hair. "Yes, I will." He got up then from his bended knee and kissed her, more pa.s.sionately than he ever had before. "When?" she asked him as they walked back toward the house.

"Soon," he answered, and the moment they walked into the living room, he took a small black velvet box from his pocket. His mother had given it to him that afternoon when he told her what he intended to do. And he had told his father that afternoon, and Charles gave him his blessing. They were both happy with his choice of bride, and neither of them was bothered that she was so young. She was a very mature girl, and they thought she was perfect for him.

Marianne opened the box cautiously and gasped when she saw it. She had never seen anything as beautiful, and Isabel thought it would be lovely on her. It had belonged to Edmund's great-grandmother, and was a beautiful round diamond solitaire, far bigger than anything Marianne had ever expected to wear. Her own mother's engagement ring had been much smaller, and her father had always planned to give it to her when she turned twenty-one. Now she would have her own engagement ring before that. She kissed him, and he slipped it on her finger. It fit perfectly, and she stared at it in wonder on her hand. It was the most extraordinary thing that had ever happened to her, and she looked sad for a moment. It was bittersweet for her.

"Darling, what's wrong?" Edmund asked with worried eyes, and there were tears in hers when she looked at him.

"I wish I could tell my father, and that he could be at our wedding." But neither of them wanted to wait until the end of the war, which could go on for years. Edmund took her in his arms, and he held her, and then he went to the pantry, and poured them each a gla.s.s of champagne. She stood admiring her ring while he did, and then he handed the gla.s.s to her.

"To my very, very beautiful bride. To us," he said, and they each took a sip. They sat in the library after that, talking about their wedding. Edmund wanted it to be very small, with just the immediate family, in the chapel on the estate. It was not very different from the wedding she would have planned at home in Germany, in the chapel at Schloss Altenberg.

"When do you want to do it?" she asked him.

He looked cautious for a moment, not wanting to rush her if she didn't feel ready. It had all happened very quickly. They had only been in love for six months, but everything seemed to move faster in wartime.

"I have to leave again at the beginning of February. Would that be too soon?" he asked hesitantly, and she shook her head, smiling at him. It was perfect. She didn't want to wait either.

"It sounds wonderful. All I need is a dress anyway." And then she looked solemn again. "Would your father give me away?" Edmund was sure he would be honored to stand in for his old friend.

"Of course. And I'd like Simon to be my best man, if he can get leave then too. Maybe Mr. Hitler will give us a break for a few days."

They sat and talked until the fire went out, and then he walked her up to her room. He stepped inside for a minute, but he didn't stay long. He didn't want to get carried away before the wedding. They were getting married in six weeks. He could hardly wait, and she was as excited as he was. And she shed more than a few tears when she wrote to her father about it that night, wishing he could share the moment with her. And she was even sadder, knowing it would be many weeks before he even got her letter, via New York.

She thanked her future mother-in-law profusely for the ring the next morning at breakfast, and showed it off to her. Isabel felt like her own family now.

"It looks very pretty on your hand." Isabel smiled at her with pleasure. "Best wishes, my darling girl." And then she clapped her hands with delight. "I'm finally going to have a daughter!" And with that, Marianne threw her arms around her and hugged her. And when Edmund came down to breakfast that morning, he looked even happier than his bride. It was a perfect Christmas for all of them at Haversham Castle. Edmund and Marianne were engaged. They had a wonderful Christmas dinner in the dining hall, talking animatedly about the wedding. And Isabel was going to help her get a dress made, by her own dressmaker in a nearby village, whom she said did very clever work. And Simon called them just as they were finishing dinner, congratulated his brother, and promised to do his best to come to the wedding. And Isabel had never been happier. Both her sons were alive and well, and Marianne was going to be a perfect addition to their family. And they all agreed, despite the war and their anxiety about it, that it was the best Christmas of their lives. But in her quiet private moments, Marianne thought of her father and the Christmases they'd shared. For her, more than anyone, it was a bittersweet night, of great joy for the present, and all she was gaining, and sadness over the past and everything she'd lost.

In Germany, with Marianne gone, Alex didn't bother to put up a tree that year. He knew it would only depress him. It had been a hard nine months for him. One of his horses had died, a big hunter he was extremely fond of. The weather had been terrible, and his house was freezing all the time, and without Marianne to brighten his days, his life had never been as bleak. With no von Bingens, and no Marianne, it was the darkest Christmas of his life, except when he lost her mother. And in some ways, this was worse. He had no one. When he lost his wife, he still had Marianne to light up his days.

He didn't have much in the house to eat for dinner. He hated to eat alone. And he was boiling some carrots and potatoes from their garden when he heard a knock on the back door. He wasn't expecting anyone, and when he opened the door, he saw one of his tenant farmers, supporting a man with an injured leg. For a long moment, neither man said a word.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir," his tenant said in a low voice, and Alex could see that they were both shaking from the cold.

"Come in," Alex said, and stood aside, still not sure what they wanted, and he noticed that the man he didn't know looked afraid, and kept glancing over his shoulder. "What can I do for you?" he asked his tenant.

"I need to borrow a horse," he said simply. "I didn't want to just take one."

"Well, that's a good thing," Alex said, turning off the stove, where he'd been cooking his simple dinner. "Besides, you can't take a horse anywhere tonight. There's ice on the ground. You'll lame him, and he'll break a leg in five minutes. Why do you need a horse?" The tenant farmer glanced at his friend and then back at the landlord he trusted and had known all his life.

"My friend needs to get to the Swiss border."

"That's a long way from here. Should I ask why?" The tenant farmer shook his head, and the injured man lowered himself into a chair with a groan. The leg looked painful. "I don't think your friend's in any condition to travel." Alex sized up the situation, and then noticed that there was blood dripping on the floor, and he realized that more than likely the second man had been shot. "Is anyone going to come looking for you?" he asked him directly.

"Not now. Maybe tomorrow. I think they may think I'm dead. They won't check until morning," the injured man said honestly.

"That's rea.s.suring," Alex said, with a wry look at them both, wondering what he was getting himself into. And then Alex thought of something. "Are you Jewish?" The man hesitated, and then nodded. His friend had convinced him that his landlord was a man you could trust.

"They took my family away two months ago. I was at an auction, in another county, selling a horse so I could feed them. And when I came back, they were gone. All of them, my wife, my two children, my mother, and my aunt. All women and children."

"Do you know where they are?"

"They were sent to a camp. I don't know where. I've been hiding ever since. One of the patrols saw me two days ago. They don't know who I am. I was hiding in the woods. And then they saw me again tonight. I've tried to stay away from everyone I know," he said, looking at them both. "One of them shot me. I don't know if they even care enough to come back. I was going to try and leave tonight, if you gave me a horse." He sounded desperate and was obviously in pain.

"Is there a bullet in that wound?" Alex asked cautiously. If so, they would have to get it out. He'd never done that before.

"He just grazed me," he said, and Alex nodded, trying to think of what to do with him. His home had never been searched, but they might change their mind, if there was a man on the loose nearby, even if they didn't suspect him, and they had no reason to. Yet.

"We ought to get some disinfectant on it. Some whiskey will do," he said, looking for a bottle in a cupboard, and he took it out when he found it. "You're better off hiding somewhere for a few days, and taking off again when you can walk. I have a wine cellar downstairs. And then we can figure out how to get you to the border, but not on horseback. I'm not going to kill my horses for you," he said sternly. He wasn't thrilled to be pulled into this project. But now they were here, and it was Christmas. He had nothing else to do. He had the man lower his trousers and poured the whiskey on the wound. It looked clean. And then he led the way downstairs. The wine cellar was dry but it was cold. He went upstairs and got him a blanket, and then he went back to the kitchen and put a potato and some carrots on a plate, and brought it down to the cellar, and handed the bottle of whiskey to him along with it. "This might help." And then he and his tenant went back upstairs. There was no light in the cellar, but the man needed to sleep anyway.

"Look for blood in the snow when you leave," he told his tenant, "and come back in two days. He should be better by then."