Chapter 3
February 23rd, 2014
Zurich
“Where is my baby?” an anxious Konrad von Lintorff asked the minute he got out of the car.
“Kurt is in the nursery. He's playing with Birgitte,” Guntram answered as he crouched down to embrace the two boys firing him with questions about his own trip to Augsburg. “How was everything?” he asked to nobody as he did his best to keep his balance under Klaus' happy attack of his father. Konrad walked away in a whirlwind.
“Papa can't ski,” Karl informed Guntram. “Never again to the slopes with him. It was embarrassing.”
“He knows it, but hates it,” Klaus corrected his brother.
“He can't do it at all. He fell twice, pushed Hanna down and quitted.”
“You didn't see him going down that slope and it was a black one.”
Guntram rose and contemplated how his two sons heatedly argued while the servants retrieved the luggage from the cars.
“On top, he's too old!” Guntram heard Karl yell at his brother and he shushed the little boy in no time.
“It's true, papa!” the boy whined. “He was the whole time complaining about his back and that he'll need a surgery after the weekend. Hanna tried to tell him how to stand on the skis and he fell like a baby!”
“He did that on purpose!” Klaus argued. “He took the black piste no matter if she told him to stop before he would break a leg! That was the fastest way to get back to the hotel!”
“Do you have a video of that?” Karl sauntered and Guntram placed himself in the middle of both twins before Klaus would punch his brother in the face.
'All right, no more skiing for us or we hire Eberhard,' Guntram sighed inwardly as he pushed the boys inside the house. 'Hungry and feisty. I'd better keep them away from Konrad till they eat something.'
The boys didn't wait for Guntram when they ran the stairs up, charging like two young buffaloes. Slowly walking after them, he was glad to hear Birgitte greet the boys and tell them they would get dinner after they bathed and changed.
'Saves me one fight,' thought Guntram as he knew the boys would not dare to go against her. 'Of all people, they're more afraid of Birgitte than of any of us. Must be the experience gained by having four children at home.'
When he entered in the nursery, the young man only heard the muffled sounds of the children coming from behind the closed bathroom door and sighed. There were many things dancing around his mind that he didn't know what to do. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with his husband for something that could be a fake. 'Probably old wives tales.'
He entered in the playroom and there was Konrad, sitting on the floor playing with Kurt, dressed in his pyjamas and robe de chambre. Guillaume de St. Cyr's ghost was erased from Guntram's memory as he sat next to them and kissed Konrad briefly because his son got in the middle and pushed him away from his father.
“You're still alive,” Guntram said as he moved his body to avoid being hit on the head with the puppet sticks and strings. “And in one piece.”
“Sooner than I want, I'll turn sixty, Guntram. This is too much for me.” Konrad complained softly from the floor as he let Kurt sit on his lap.
“And I forty,” Guntram smiled as he sat next to him and watched how his youngest played with the puppet lion again. “Anyway, Klaus mentioned something about a black piste but he must have been wrong,” he added innocently.
“Indeed,” Konrad answered without flinching a muscle of his face and Guntram knew his son was right.
“The boys go to bed now. Tomorrow school. Dinner is the last we will see from them. Kurt already had dinner.”
“Don't be so optimistic, Maus. Tomorrow they will be sick and you'll have them at home for a whole week. I'll fly to London.”
“Again? Can't you stay at home for a while? You were traveling last week too.”
“Councillors do work, you know Guntram?” Konrad quoted Goran's words acidly. “The new Hochmeister has this funny idea that as “king” he should keep distance from the populace. It's up to me, Honorary-Hochmeister to be the democratic face of the Order,” he smirked. “Anyway, he only meets with Komturen or people he thinks will not take much of his time.”
“It's a new kind of rule,” Guntram tried to soften the blow to Konrad's pride. “Not yours or your father's.”
“I realize that. By the way, we are supposed to organize the Order's Easter meeting, my love. Goran's flat is too small.”
“I could lend him my studio,” Guntram chuckled. “Thanks for the input; I'll run away with the children.”
“Do you really want to leave me to face alone all these people? After our marriage? Do you have any idea of how is it going to be?”
“Sit next to Goran,” Guntram chuckled again, more determined than ever to find an excuse to be out of the house that Friday.
“I can't: I was not even named Summus Marescalus or Magnus Commendator. Adolf zu Löwenstein got it.”
“Who took Goran's place?” Guntram asked puzzled.
“Nobody but he. He was digging somewhere and found a time when both offices were held by the same man. But in my modest opinion, the Battle of Verdun cannot be compared with today's politics. He's using the take over -or recovery, as he calls it- of Crimea as an excuse for his “rule for wartime”.”
“Konrad, you know this is for the best,” Guntram said softly. “Nobody is more loyal to you than Goran. Let him do as he pleases.”
“I think he's planning to name Antonov as Summus Marescalus,” Konrad mumbled. “It makes sense. Pavicevic likes Russians and think they have the upper hand and Russians like Serbs too. Komturem love Antonov or at least, they fear him, considering his last holidays in Russia.”
“You couldn't find someone better for the job.”
“I know, but I should have said that,” Konrad retorted briskly. “Nobody ever asks me anything any more.”
“Yes, they do,” Guntram pointed out. “We're still in charge of the dinosaurs' parade.”
“Speaking of dinosaurs, how was the weekend with Lacroix?”
Guntram smiled nervously and gulped. “Fine. We brought an Urmel home.”
“Birgitte!” Konrad called out and kissed his son goodnight before the maid entered in the room. “Take the baby to bed,” he ordered and smiled at the pouting baby. “It is time for you too.”
“Not now,” Kurt said firmly.
“Tomorrow you have school too.”
“School is bad.” Kurt frowned. “Not good.”
“But it is unavoidable,” Konrad said and made him stand up from his lap and nudged him to the nanny. “Good night.”
Guntram kissed his son good night and sighed again as he watched him leave, taking his nanny's hand.
“He hates kindergarten. I guess he thought school would be like what the boys do.”
“I would also hate to be trapped in a room with nursery rhymes and plasticine,” Konrad supported Kurt. “Is he still crying each time you leave him there?”
“No, he stopped after he saw it was useless, but he doesn't want to have anything to do with the teacher.”
“Sensible little fellow,” Konrad mumbled.
“I don't have the guts to tell him he will have to stay for the day after Easter.”
“We should do what the pediatrician said; test his abilities and then, place him in the proper place. Friederich is convinced he can read some easy things.”
“He can't read.”
“Of course and he can't solve labyrinths or make simple additions,” Konrad smirked.
“I'm still not convinced of that. It was a coincidence.”
“Then let a professional decide it.”
“You are the first person to hate psychologists.” Guntram retorted heatedly. “Do you want to have them here? Telling us how we should live our life? What if we get one who thinks a mama and a papa is what our babies need?”
“Guntram, don't get defensive. If we don't like the first, we go to the second or I can speak with the school principal and she can recommend someone. I'm sure we will called very soon.”
“Then what? Do you want him to jump years? It's horrible to be the dwarf of the class and you hated school as you knew everything beforehand.”
“School was a waste of my time, but it was good for me. I met Ferdinand there. I was not exactly brilliant but a hard worker. Dähler is brilliant and he tells me Kurt does the same things he was doing at that age; to hide his intelligence to avoid getting extra chores.”
“Michael has a degree in Psychology besides a Ph.D. in Physics?” Guntram asked acidly.
“Michael is clever enough as to realize things. You're the one in denial here.”
“Fine! Test him!” Guntram exploded. “Be happy with that!”
“So, now you can explain me what this “fine” means.” Konrad said with a shrug.
“Fine as good,” Guntram answered. “Do you want to have dinner?”
“The other “fine”; the one from your weekend with Lacroix. You're shouting me and mixing your own childhood frustrations with our son's life.”
“Fine as we had a wonderful weekend. Happy now?”
“No,” Konrad grunted and shut his eyes when Guntram slammed the door behind him. 'Damned Lacroix. I should have made Guntram sign the papers, but I don't need his authorization to make Kurt pass the tests.'
'It's quite obvious that I'll dine alone tonight.'
* * * *
March 24th, 2014
Maldonado, Uruguay
The house was exactly what he had been looking for: a modern colonial style, not in need of too many renovations, twenty-five minutes away from the Punta del Este International Airport and some ten minutes away from the town and beaches. The property was originally a small eucalyptus plantation and the many trees around the house helped to cure his own homesickness of the forests around his old home at Khanty Mansyik.
A good international school was amiss but Constantin was confident to get good private tutors for his children. Uruguay allowed homeschooling as long as the child progress were monitored by the state.
Kostya was still too young to be concerned about school but Conor was already old enough as to attend kindergarten.
The mere thought of Lintorff choosing his own child's school drove him mad with fury. Constantin was sure Guntram would let the other man do what he pleased with his own child. Not only he had married him but let the German adopt his Conor.
Most of Lintorff's closet was clean, or at least the part Guntram cared about. Past deals between them wouldn't matter to Guntram; the young man would probably find an excuse to justify any of Linforff's deeds.
No, Constantin needed some new and personal stuff to make Guntram explode. Guntram was consciously blind to anything related to the Order's murky business. There should be something capable of creating a wedge between them; flashing Kostya to Guntram would only make him increase his resentment against him only because he had not been asked whether he wanted another baby or not. With all his sensibility, Guntram could be as corny as it gets.
Kostya should be Guntram's reward if he chose to do the right thing; return Conor and come back to him.
He only needed to sit and think while he pulled some favors in. The Order was not so secret as before and Lintorff had done all in his hands to get many people furious at him. After all, Constantin had more than the NCA's shopping list in his hands. A former weapons dealer was more than a merchant; he was the black hand for governments. There was no bigger coward than a politician caught with his hands dirtied with the wrong kind of cookies or in the wrong jar. And he knew plenty of them, in all colors and spheres.
Constantin had had enough of mystical crusaders and this time, he would make the Order explode from within. This time it was not only about Guntram.
Maybe he would not even need to pull some favors but to do some new favors to former business acquittance. He had a clear idea of the Order's new weak points.
'Time to try the new Russian acupuncture, Konrad.'
“Yes, this is exactly what I was looking for,” Constantin told the real estate agent still prattling over the property's opportunities, convinced that the Frenchman was a lost case. “Speak with the owner and my lawyers will contact you to draw the papers,” he mildly ordered the astonished man.
* * *
Guntram de Lisle's diary
March 10th, 2014
It's very clear to me that the “ski-week” was a very bad idea.
1. The boys are all sick; the twins were down with the flu that same Monday after it and Kurt followed their example two days later. I'm sure he misses school a lot.
- I slammed the door and Konrad considered himself “officially offended”. I know it was not nice from me to do it, but he was pressuring me too much.
- I got a phone call from a Ms. Theis on Tuesday and she said she was willing to perform some intelligence tests on Kurt with Konrad's approval and the school's blessing. As you can't send ladies to hell, I preferred to tell her the boys were sick and swift everything to next week. God bless germs.
- Konrad-officially wounded in his pride after making the huge sacrifice of skiing with his children-, took the first plane to London and hid behind Monika's back: “She's highly qualified, -Monika told me about the psychologist- and you will like her very much.”
- Birgitte is worth her weight in solid platinum because she dealt with the sick boys, my crankiness and sent me to the flat to paint: that put a lot of the steam out.
I have to read Eberhard's poems and see if I get any ideas because I'm quite short of them.
* * *
March 13th, 2014
Zurich
The sound of his mobile phone woke Guntram up. Groggily, his hand probed the night table until it found the noisy devise.
“I thought you were finally stabbed by one of your pencils,” Konrad greeted him merrily.
“What time is it?” Guntram mumbled sleepy, feeling his throat sore and thinking that maybe it was his time to get the flu along with his children.
“I think midnight,” Konrad answered in a good mood.
“I was sleeping!” Guntram whined.
“I'll be short. I'll be home tomorrow afternoon. Are the boys fit to go out?”
“No, tonight Karl ran some fever and Kurt coughs a lot.”
“Excellent. You can take the plane in the morning, meet me in London and we could go out, to the Covent Garden or anywhere you like. We can return home Saturday morning.”
“I'm not going to leave the boys alone!”
“Their nanny is with them along with forty people or more. You still owe me a children-free weekend, Guntram.”
“I don't want to take a flight to go to another city or to the Opera.” Guntram protested.
“Perhaps the Opera is bit too dull. How about dining out?”
“How about a disco?” Guntram asked ironically. “You must know several.”
“No, not really. I'm too old for that. Should have asked me ten or fifteen years ago. Why don't we go to Paris?”
“Now you want to use two planes. With people like you, it's a miracle the ozone hole is not bigger.”
“I'm not ordering ice cream from Dubai.” Konrad answered a bit irked at the critics. “But I want my dinner.”
“All right,” sighed Guntram. “Come home, I'll get dressed and we'll go out together somewhere not too exclusive.”
“No family restaurants, Guntram.” Konrad warned him.
“When have we ever been to a family restaurant?”
“Several times, with you even. In the zoo, for example. Anyway, choose something you like.”
“We'll go to Club Indochine and see if Jay-Z is there.”
“Who?”
“Nobody,” sighed Guntram. “He doesn't own a bank.”
“How about the “Pavillion”?”
“Are you nuts? Do you want to eat from the microwave until New Year’s Eve? Our chef hates their chef.”
“He hates everybody who swings a pan in this city. Do you think chefs throw cockroaches in each others kitchens'?”
“Königshalle?” suggested Guntram and felt very miserable. “There is no other place in this city we can go without enraging him or with you feeling like the chef is going to poison you with something modern. We were nearly expelled and banned for life from El Bulli.”
“It's that or the McDonalds', my love,” Konrad chuckled relieved that Guntram's initial belligerent mood had disappeared. “You can't serve me a Frozen Parmesan Air for desert that is not even sweet. That was just a smelly cookie! Going there was Tita's silliest idea ever. I was told what to eat and to do it without any kind of cutlery. It was a fixed price menu! You get plastic forks in Currywurst stalls.”
“Jean Jacques has been ruling in your stomach since 1995 and I don't hear you complaining about it,” Guntram sighed even louder. “The menu is changed everyday and it's supposed to be an experience, not a dinner.”
“I have it. We book a room at the Baur au Lac and have some romance.” Konrad happily ignored Guntram's defense of the trendy restaurant. “No fixed price menu there,” he smirked. “Old fashion cuisine à la carte.”
“We can do the same here.”
“Not with one of our boys jumping on us in the middle of the night; they're sick, perfect excuse to mount an assault on our fortress.”
“All right, but it will be on you,” Guntram accepted.
“You owe me.” Konrad joked. “I will ask for the five kilos lobster after that prank with the snow.”
“Then, McDonald's it is.” Guntram quickly retorted and bit his lips to suffocate a chuckle. “I'm a poor painter and you are the banker. It's not fair.”
“No lobster?”
“Crab substitute burger?”
“No way,” Konrad sounded offended.
“How about I provide the romance and you the lobster?”
“Deal.” The phone went dead and the bedroom door opened.
“I thought you were in London.” Guntram stammered as he watched his husband carelessly throw his jacket on the chair and leave his mobile phone on the table next to it. “If you keep doing this, how could I ever sneak a lover in this house?” he joked as he sat on the bed.
“Just testing the waters.” Konrad chuckled before he kissed Guntram deeply, sitting on the bed and feeling glad he was kissing him back and their earlier grudge was totally forgotten. “And I want my romance now.”
“I can't do it without a lobster first,” Guntram replied as he pulled from Konrad's tie and his fingers began to fumble with the mother of pearl buttons.
“You hate lobsters, Guntram. Don't give me that.” Konrad whispered in Guntram's ear.
“They look like something from outer space.” Guntram frowned in that way Konrad loved. “I guess they're bidding their time to conquer us,” Guntram whispered as he unbuttoned Konrad's shirt.
“Then we should eat them all,” Konrad answered as he gently pushed Guntram against the mattress, utterly happy that things were going so well again.
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