Two Brothers

Two Brothers

October 23^rd, 1964

Zurich

Konrad had been very disappointed when he was sternly told by his father that he was not invited at all to the opening of the ibex hunting season. He had pouted and thrown a tantrum, but the Duke had been inflexible, and Friederich had sided with him. At seven years old, he was still too young to shoot a weapon or even go with the men.

“Perhaps when you turn twelve, like your brother,” had been his father's answer before he had dismissed him. “You are still a little boy, Konrad, and we will drive to the mountains—to Graue Hörner.”

The only thing preventing Konrad from throwing another tantrum of epic proportions was that Karl Maria was very proud and happy that he had been allowed to go hunting with the adults. Seeing his brother brimming with happiness made Konrad swallow his own fury at his father's ‘insult’: calling him a “little boy” when he was able to write, read and calculate much better than his own brother.

“Don't worry, Konrad,” Friederich had said in a futile attempt to sooth his pupil's wounded pride while he was having lunch with his brother. “We will take the train to Geneva and visit a small clock workshop.” The little boy's large face had been incentive enough for Friederich to raise the stakes: “and a chocolate factory too.”

“Wow, Konrad, a chocolate factory! Lucky you!” Karl Maria had laughed full-heartedly, feeling very happy for his little brother. “I wish I could go and eat everything!”

“I'll get you a big chocolate with the five francs I have,” Konrad promised, his grudge against the world diminishing just a bit, mostly infected by his brother's permanent good mood and happiness.

“We'll eat it together and give nothing to that smelly Sebastian,” Karl Maria chortled remembering their worst nightmare, the gardener's eldest son.

“Nothing at all,” Konrad agreed quickly before Friederich would tell them off for not sharing or being disagreeable with other people. “Though Hubertus gets a piece,” he added as he remembered his green friend at the pond.

* * *

Saturday night

Geneva

The cold wind, along with the many questions Konrad had bombarded Friederich with, had finally caused the teacher a painful migraine. Not willing to do anything else but getting the boy to eat his dinner, say his prayers and hopefully fall asleep soon, he entered the small hotel's lobby holding Konrad’s hand while the boy kept jumping on one foot.

Friederich stopped in his tracks when he saw one of the Serbian bodyguards rise from the battered couch in the lobby. He released the child's hand and walked towards the dark haired man to quietly ask the reason for his visit.

“We must return to Zurich. There was an accident this morning,” the man mumbled, twisting the hat in his hands.

“An accident?”

“The eldest son. Hunting accident. He's seriously hurt.”

“How much?”

“Very,” the Serb answered, making a small gesture towards the approaching Konrad. “The car will be waiting for you and the little one.”

“Very well,” said Friederich. “I'll get everything ready as soon as I can.”

“There is no hurry, sir. Nothing will be done until tomorrow,” the man said, and Friederich closed his eyes at the news. “I’m told that the Duke will arrive home in the middle of the night. According to him, the Duchess might need some time to herself.”

“Thank you.” Friederich whispered. “In that case, we will drive tomorrow at dawn.”

“It's a sensible decision, sir. At nine will be good enough.”

* * *

“Why do you have such sad eyes, Friederich?” Konrad asked the next morning when he saw his tutor almost collapse on his bed when he woke him up.

“You must get up and we will drive home now,” he evaded the question.

“Don't we go to church?”

“No, not today, my child. Get cleaned and dressed. Don't forget your teddy bear,” he said, fighting against the lump constructing his throat.

“And the chocolate!” Konrad quipped happily. “Do you think it is big enough?”

Friederich froze. He had forgotten the candy, bought at the small bakery they had visited at what seemed almost a century ago. “Konrad, Karl Maria is seriously injured. I don't think he will be able to eat chocolate.”

“We can wait till he feels better,” Konrad said.

“I'm afraid that this is more serious than that,” Friederich started to speak with great difficulty. His mind frantically tried to remember the words conscientiously prepared to break the news to the child in the most compassionate way he could think of.

“There was an accident while he was with your father, and he...” Friederich just couldn't continue with the speech. “Your father will need to see that you are all right. Could you do this for me?”

“I'm all right,” Konrad answered without understanding a word his tutor had said. “If he broke a leg, I can stay with him.”

“It's more serious than that, child. You must get used to the idea that he is no longer with us; he has gone to Heaven to meet our Lord.”

“He can go up there and come back,” Konrad insisted, beginning to understand that the life he had known had been swept away in a matter of minutes.

“No, dear, once we go to Heaven we don't come back. We stay there and pray for the ones who stay here, and they do the same for us,” Friederich said and clutched to him the dazed boy, unable to stand the big blue eyes, on the brink of tears, inspecting each one of his gestures, moves or intonations to check if his words were true. “We will all meet again one day, dear,” he mumbled as his hold on the boy became stronger. “We must have faith,” he repeated automatically, but the words brought him no comfort in their emptiness.

* * *

The car parked outside the castle and Konrad couldn't help to notice that there were around twenty more vehicles parked along the road. Still holding Friederich's hand and with his teddy bear dangling from his free hand, he followed his tutor inside the courtyard and through the main entrance.

“They arrived this morning, sir,” the butler whispered to Friederich as he took their coats and hat. “His Grace is at the chapel with him.”

“Thank you,” answered Friederich, and looked at the man inquisitively, waiting for more information.

“The Prince zu Löwenstein, the Baron von Lintorff and Mr. St. Claude are with His Grace. The Duchess is at the living room with the Princess Battistini and her mother. She...” the butler doubted to continue but the large, sad eyes of the child convinced him to break all rules of discretion. “She is not feeling well so the Duke decided to close the coffin. The young Prince could go in now as she is not there.”

“It's understandable,” Friederich replied very slowly. “Come with me Konrad, your father will like to see you.”

The child meekly followed his tutor, who took a detour through the service area to avoid passing in front of the living room as he was unsure of the mother's reaction. Perhaps she would be glad to see Konrad, but experience had taught Friederich that, regarding her youngest, Marianne showed nothing but hatred or contempt.

Almost glad that he had been able to reach the outer door through the kitchen, Friederich began to find his way back to the chapel, crossing the courtyard 'like a thief'. His relief was short-lived as they were stopped by an unknown lady with wonderful blue eyes and dark brown hair.

“Hello dear, I'm your Aunt Elisabetta,” the young woman, dressed with a dark suit, knelt down to kiss Konrad. “You don't remember me, but I saw you when you were three years old. Your uncle Hermann and I were here for Easter,” she said as she caressed his face with real tenderness.

Konrad only broke a compromised, shy, half smile, and then buried his face in her chest as she returned his display of affection.

“How do you do, Mr. Elsässer? My husband has spoken lengthy about you,” she offered her hand, and he kissed it. “How is he?” she asked in French.

“He still has not realised what has happened,” Friederich answered, also in French.

“Marianne is very affected, so much that she blames the little one for this horror. I simply don't understand her,” she said. “I think the best would be to keep this child away until she feels better. Her mother is here and suggests taking Konrad to Venice with her.”

“I don't know if the Duke would allow it,” Friederich started to refuse the invitation, but Elisabetta only rose an eyebrow and he changed his mind. “I'll try to convince His Grace to let the child go.”

“Yes, that would be the best. A change of airs, and later, you can visit us in Milan. Meeting Armin and Albert will be good for him. Christmas is a good time to come.”

Friederich gaped at her, but quickly hid his surprise, realising that such a long ‘self-imposed exile’ was a good indication of the mother's feelings towards her son. “Yes, Milan is a beautiful city,” he added miserably. “Excuse us, please,” he said as he softly touched the boy's shoulder. “We should be going now.”

“Yes, of course. The child can go inside now. Karl Heinz didn't let Marianne see the child, and it was for the best, according to Hermann.”

An inhuman howl resounded all over the courtyard, and Friederich's heart cringed when he saw Marianne advancing towards them, more furious than ever, with her mother trying to hold and calm her down. He placed his body between the woman and her child when he heard the first yells directed at Konrad.

“How dare you to be here!” Marianne roared when she saw her youngest, hiding behind Friederich's back. She advanced towards him and pushed the young man away to grab her son by the shoulders, shaking him several times with great violence and bringing tears to his eyes.

“They killed him to get you in his place!” she shouted, and slapped Konrad in the face. “You murdered your brother! The only thing you had to do was to be a normal child, but you're an abomination from hell! I wish you would drop dead or that your father would put a bullet in your head like he did with my son!”

“Mummy!” Konrad sobbed as Friederich tried to get her away with the help of a maid.

“You killed him and your father pulled the trigger!” she shouted again, ready to launch herself at the petrified child. “You’re the demon's spawn! I forbid you to be near my son! You murderer!”

“Madam, please, return to your rooms,” Friederich said as he held her arm very strongly, but she spat him on the face.

“You too are a demon hiding behind your habits! You and my husband conspired to get my son killed! You creep into his room every night and train this little monster to be the next killer!”

“Madam, you are not yourself!” Friederich growled through gritted teeth, but this time Marianne scratched his face before a Serbian bodyguard could interfere and restrain her while her mother spoke to her with a calm voice.

Her cries had attracted the men gathered in the chapel, but they simply watched her nervous breakdown without interfering.

“Take the boy away!” the Serb shouted in the middle of his fight to control Marianne as she was now attacking him.

Friederich picked up the shocked child and walked away as fast as he could, missing the forms of Gustav zu Löwenstein and Hermann von Lintorff silently watching the scene from the chapel's entrance.

'Konrad is the right choice. He didn't cry at all. That's a good trait for a leader,’ the Prince zu Löwenstein thought, watching more intensively than before the retreating form of the tutor, holding the boy against his chest.

Over the young man's shoulder, the young child fearlessly gazed back at the Prince.

* * *

Konrad spent the rest of the day in the playroom with Friederich. His grandmother had visited him for a few instants, but she left as one of the maids came to ask her to return to her daughter's bedside. Without saying a thing, he had begun to put his toys in order. Once he was finished, he carefully approached the large table where Karl Maria kept his soldiers and, still silent, he took the wooden box where his brother used to store them and put them away, all in perfect order, afraid to damage the plumb soldiers' paint with a careless hit.

Friederich remained silent too, as he couldn't find the words to comfort the child. He searched his memory, trying to remember how his older sisters had helped him when their father had been shot, but nothing came up. He vaguely remembered Lotte kissing him, but the memory could have been from another time.

By nightfall, the boy was still mute and had finished to put away the battlefield he admired so much. He was absent and didn't pay attention to his dinner, and for the first time, Friederich let him be and asked the dish to be removed.

With growing concern, he watched how Konrad washed and changed himself into his pyjamas. He asked if he wanted to say his prayers, but the boy shook his head, so Friederich said them for him, and watched how he just crossed himself after his teacher was finished. Sighing, he covered him well and left the room, switching the light off.

Alone in his bed, Konrad turned around and looked at the empty bed next to his, hoping to hear his brother's partly contained chuckles in the darkness.

“Karl? Are you there? You can come out now,” he whispered, and waited for any reaction.

“Karl, it's not funny any longer,” he said into the darkness, remembering how his brother loved to play hide and seek with him. “Come out, you won. I brought you chocolate.”

The silence that followed his words terrified him, and for the first time in his life, the shadows lurking in the room came alive. He sat on the bed, focusing his eyes on the empty bed, trying to distinguish his brother's form, but the flatness of the covers was still there. The searing pain in his throat immobilized him as time ceased to flow.

The muffled sounds of his cries attracted Friederich in no time, and Konrad felt how two arms circled him and offered him comfort as a large hand softly petted his head, while a voice whispered words of solace. The bright light, pouring from the hall, hurt the child's eyes, and he buried his face in his tutor’s shoulder sobbing, “Karl doesn't want to speak with me”.

What Friederich had feared all the journey back home had finally come to pass. “We should visit your brother now, Konrad,” he said with a low voice. “You have to say good-bye to him.”

“Are we going to Heaven?” Konrad asked sobbing as he took the offered handkerchief from his tutor's hand.

“No, not there, my child. We will go to the chapel and you will say good-bye to him.”

“His soldier is still here,” pointed out Konrad. “It was his favourite. Can I take it to him? He may want to have it.”

Friederich looked at him in disbelief, unable to understand the boy's logics. 'He's dead!' he wanted to shout, but he said instead, “Very well, get dressed and we will go together.”

“Mummy does not want me there.”

“We'll go now. Everybody is away. You have to see your brother for the last time, Konrad. Don't worry, I'll speak with your father if she is upset.”

Friederich waited for Konrad to get dressed again. He turned his head around and sniffed and coughed when he saw the child sliding a chocolate bar and a plumb red Hussar toy soldier inside his coat's pocket. In complete silence, they walked the empty corridors and crossed the courtyard to enter in the deserted chapel.

Konrad stood frozen in the middle of the aisle, impressed by the dark wooden coffin set at the altar's feet, surrounded by white flowers and illuminated by the flickering candle lights.

Friederich gently pushed the boy forward and reminded him to tell his brother good-bye as he led him only a meter from the coffin.

Without understanding why he was doing it, Konrad closed the distance, and his hand caressed the large velvet drape embroidered with his family's coat of arms that covered the coffin. He tried to speak, but no words came out from his mouth, so he rummaged inside his pocket to get his brother's belongings out.

The sudden noise of a chair being moved scared him, and he jumped away from the coffin to see his father's tall frame emerging from the shadows. Terrified that he had been caught doing something so evil, as even his own mother had forbidden him to be there, he tried to run away, pushing himself past Friederich.

“What do you have there?” Karl Heinz asked when he easily caught his son by the collar before he could reach the door.

“It's the chocolate I promised him and his soldier, sir,” Konrad mumbled, revealing the items hidden behind his back. “He might need them.”

“The coffin is sealed,” Karl Heinz explained with a soft voice to his son, and the hurt look he saw in his eyes made him lie. “I'll ask to have it reopen and put these things inside. Don't worry, Konrad. Everything is fine,” he said with a broken voice, and his son saw his red-rimmed eyes. “Go to bed now. Friederich, take him away.”

Without saying another word, the younger man picked the child up in his arms and caressed the head that took shelter in his shoulder to next leave the chapel as fast as he could and avoid hearing his best friend's barely contained sobs.

* * *

Friederich watched as people arrived to the castle and draw the heavy velvet drapes together. After a brief consultation with Karl Heinz, they had preferred to keep Konrad away from the service and his mother.

'I still don't understand her behaviour. It's as if my mother would blame me for my father's murder by the communists. The poor woman is deranged by her pain.' He turned around and walked back to the table where Konrad was sitting in silence. The child had been like that the whole morning, rejecting his breakfast and refusing to do anything else but to hold his teddy bear.

“If you want, we can go for a walk to the pond,” suggested Friederich. “It's warm today.”

Konrad's eyes fixed upon him, and Friederich felt very uneasy. “We have time till lunchtime,” he added, and for some unexplainable reason, he felt like a shallow idiot. Konrad shook his head.

“Death is a part of life and it simply happens. No one is responsible for it,” Friederich explained him. “For a parent to loose a son is the worst tragedy. Sometimes we lose our tempers, and you should forget what happened yesterday. Your mother didn't mean it.”

“Yes, she did. She always does,” the seven-year-old replied very slowly.

“No, of course not. You have always been a good son and brother. Karl Maria loved you very much and you, him,” Friederich said, glad the boy had finally uttered his first words since yesterday night.

“Do you think so?”

“Of course I do,” Friederich affirmed. “Come, we will go away now.”

“I want to stay to say good-bye to Karl Maria,” sobbed Konrad.

“The chapel is completely full, dear. We will go away for a little while, and return after the service.”

“They will be gone! I want to stay here!”

“Konrad, a funeral is not the best place for a child to be. You already said good-bye to your brother, and he knows you miss him.”

* * *

Five days later

“A Council meeting? Now?” an astonished Friederich asked the Prince zu Löwenstein, partly closing his eyes to protect them from the midday sun's glare.

“I'm afraid so. There are a few things we need to organize. The Duchess is excused, of course.”

“This is most inconvenient,” he protested as he cast a look in Konrad's direction, oblivious to their talk, dutifully inspecting the grass and plants next to the pond.

“It's not my idea, but several associates need some reassurance that everything will continue as it is. Your presence is of vital importance for the younger brother's future,” the Prince pressed.

Friederich watched the silent boy, busy collecting some leaves for the herbarium his teacher had decided to start. The maid, standing a few meters away, was a clear sign that he was supposed to assist to the meeting.

“Konrad, I'm going away for a few moments. Stay with Ursula and remember to choose leaves looking as perfect as you can,” he said as he rose from the bench placed in front of the pond.

“Nothing like a good herbarium to keep a child busy,” the Prince commented.

“Yes, that's right,” Friederich said laconically. “It helps me to diminish his allergy to Latin lessons.”

“We were all allergic to them,” the Prince replied with a forced smile. “Perhaps an ant farm would be good for the boy. They teach quite a lot about responsibility, social structure and its organization.”

“I was thinking on an aquarium before all this happened,” Friederich answered as he walked back to the castle with the Prince. “Perhaps we will start with one once we return from Venice and Milan.”

“Yes, that's also a good idea.”

Konrad watched how the maid smiled at him sadly and sat where his tutor had just been. He turned around and continued to look for leaves that were not ruined or too dirty, washing them on the pond before he would store them between old newspaper leaves.

The maid rose to her feet like a well-oiled spring when she saw the Duchess coming down the small path, dressed in her mourning clothes.

“Dismissed,” Marianne said very coldly, and the woman looked at her desperately, torn between her duty and her fear to leave the child alone with her. She already had tried to hit the child twice after the funeral, and on both occasions, the Duke or the service had had to restrain her.

“Mr. Elsässer will be back soon,” she protested fearfully. “The Duke told me to look after his son.”

“Go away or you are fired,” Marianne said, and the woman ran away to call one of the bodyguards in the kitchen, praying that the child would be clever enough as to get away from the water.

“You are very quiet now,” Marianne said sweetly, and Konrad cowered a bit from his mother, already sensing that she had something very bad in store for him.

“Don't worry, my dear. I'm not upset with you,” she said advancing towards him to grab his arms. “You didn't do a thing,” she added with a forced smile, and Konrad relaxed his tense body at hearing her words. The several random slaps he had gotten in the past days deeply confused him. Before, his mother had ignored him, but now, every time she came next to him, there were dire consequences for him.

“You did nothing of what I asked you, and now, Karl Maria is dead,” she continued with a soft and sweet voice.

“I want Karl back,” Konrad sobbed, partly relieved that his mother wanted to speak with him and perhaps comfort or even kiss him as Friederich had.

“He can't come back. He is dead because of you. He is well dead, and now buried in the chapel because you couldn't keep your mouth shut. He is rotting in a coffin because you, my dear, were always showing your father that you were the best,” she spoke with a radiant smile.

“Mummy,” Konrad pleaded, getting very nervous as he squirmed to get free from her hold and escape, but her fingers increased their pressure on his arms to the point the grip became painful.

“You have no mother. I never wanted you. Your father forced me to have you. If it were by me, I would have drowned you in the pond,” she said with another smile, and Konrad began to cry, feeling very afraid of her.

“You cry now? Like a child? Don't do that or your father will shoot you in the head, blowing your face off, like he did to my son. He does not want a son; he wants an heir.” Konrad began to wail loudly, and she released him.

“Now you behave like a normal person, crying for your dead brother, the same you killed by showing everybody you were the best. I hope you suffer the same. He was a good, loving child while you are nothing but a monstrosity disguised as an infant. The best you could do is to be quiet for the rest of your life. Nobody wants to hear a disgusting freak like you. Can't you realise how monstrous you are if you can speak four languages? If you were among real children, they would tear you into pieces because nobody likes a repellent prig like you.” She stood up.

“Be quiet, and perhaps someone will like you,” she gloated with dark satisfaction in her son's wails. “Keep your mouth shut, and perhaps someone will care about you. I do not care about you. I hate you, pathetic creep.”

The child watched her mother going away as he dried his tears with his sleeve.

Real men did not cry.

Real men did not need to talk.

He was going to do everything in his power to prevent his father from leaving him like his mother had just done. He was going to be a normal child, as children should be.

Seen and not heard.