TS3 Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Guntram de Lisle's Diary

May 22^nd, 2014

Tonight, I think I'll stay at Michel's house. I need some time alone and even if he's not the best for leaving you alone with your own miseries, he will understand me. 

I still don't know what to think about everything that happened today. 

Very early in the morning I drove to the bank with Konrad. He was still in a sour mood after our “exchange of opinions” because of the cup. We didn't talk to each other at all. 

There was nobody at the bank. It was that early; 6 AM. Goran is an early bird and was at his office, with Di Mattei too, to serve as witness (?). 

I was expecting to go to the underground vaults but we went back to the garage where Goran's car was parked. Funny, no bodyguards or Serbs at all. Goran drove us to the outskirts of Zurich and parked in front of an industrial looking building.  I saw Enrico's car following us at some distance.

“Artworks are kept here,” told me Konrad as a matter of fact. I followed him meekly and there was someone (at 6:45 AM) already waiting for us but no one else to be seen. That drove me a bit nervous. Why so much secrecy? 

We took a several flights of stairs down and I was so excited that I didn't count them. In the two or three times we stopped to wait for the man to tap a security code in front of a vault door, I felt very oppressed. The place was almost claustrophobic with its massive concrete walls and dim corridors. We finally reached the last vault door and the man quickly taped his code and waited for Konrad to do the same. We entered in a small well lit chamber where there was a Regency desk with four chairs around and some i-Pad looking devices set on top of the shiny table.

“Your Grace, the time inside the vault has been restricted to five minutes to keep the interior conditions at best,” the man said. “I'm afraid you have to remove the items you want and inspect them here. The gate can be opened again after thirty minutes.” 

“I understand, Köhler,” Konrad answered nonchalantly. 

“If the Vicomte and Mr. Di Mattei would be so kind as to sign these forms,” the man addressed me and gave me an i-Pad, “so we could proceed then.” 

“What is this?” I asked while Enrico dutifully signed his one. 

“It's a mere confidentiality agreement stating that you will not divulge the contents of this vault to anyone.” 

It irked me that Konrad was asking me to sign it but before I could open my mouth he said: “Guntram, It's not only my artwork collection which is here but some other important pieces whose owners don't want to be known. It's a formality asked to anyone who enters in this room.” 

“What happens if I speak about the Van Gogh you're hiding in there?” I asked ironically. 

“The bank will sue you for over a billion Swiss Francs,” Konrad answered seriously. 

“Then, I'll sign and stay outside if you don't mind,” I was truly irked with him at that point and signed the forms. Joy, they even wanted my fingerprint! 

“No, come with me. Goran, do you want to stay here?” 

“Yes, of course. I'm afraid of the darkness,” Goran answered “humorously” and the Köhler man (what a name for such a job! One would say he was born for it) placed his palm in a scan and the door opened in front of us. 

I followed Konrad and Köhler as they both walked in a beeline through the corridor flanked by floor-to-ceiling glass windows. There was only a small led light embedded into the floor to illuminate the long room and there was no way I could tell what was hiding behind the arm thick glasses. 

“Temperature and light are adjusted to match the best preservation standards for the objects we guard, Vicomte,” the man told me as he stopped in front of one of the glass “showcases”. 

“What if someone enters? I saw nobody outside.” I asked. 

“Oh, there is certainly someone inside,” the German smirked at me. “Anyway, no thief would cross those doors alive.” He pressed again his palm against one of the columns holding the glasses and the small section in front of us illuminated by itself. “Here it is, my Duke,” he bowed his head to Konrad and quickly left us alone. 

I was blinking from the damage caused by the light -not that much- to my eyes, already used to the darkness. I swear I saw a very delicate painting of a Renaissance Annunciation that looked out from the hand of Leonardo, but that was impossible. 

“Do you want to do this?” Konrad asked me as he pointed with his head towards a forty centimeters long wooden case, standing next to that wonderful painting. 

“Is it a real one?” I asked and pointed at the painting. 

“It isn't catalogued and can't be catalogued for the next fifty years.” 

“Konrad, if it is what I think it is... then...” I blabbed.

“It doesn't still exist.” Konrad shut me up firmly. “My great-grandfather acquired it just before the war. Perhaps our children are able to enjoy it freely.” 

Now I see why you should never look into the banker's private vault. The light cast by “our” showcase allowed me to see other wonders that justified the sum he wanted to sue me for if I opened my big mouth. 

“Do you want to continue?” Konrad repeated the question and I nodded, unable to speak. He only pressed his palm against the scan, just as Köhler had done it and the showcase opened silently. 

“Klaus and Karl will be registered when they turn twenty-one. You have to decide if Kurt should do the same,” he told me as he picked up the wooden box in his hands. 

“Careful, it's glass,” Konrad said before he handed it to me. “We will return to the room you saw before and you can inspect it there.” He turned around and began to walk towards the exit. I saw how the glass door closed by itself and I followed him quickly as I didn't want to be left trapped inside this multi-billion tomb. 

In the room, Goran and Enrico were sitting at the table and the last looked at me expectantly as I settled the old wooden box on top of the table. 

“You are allowed to see this item by the Council's grace,” Goran told me seriously and I left it there because I didn't want to start a vulgar fight in front of the cup. 

The box was nothing out of the ordinary; in fact, it looked quite simple in its design and materials to allegedly contain the Holy Grail. I set it on top of the table and I could feel Konrad and Goran's palpable disinterest and apathy while Enrico disguised his own mix of trepidation and longing behind a mask of cultivated indifference. There was a small box of white cloth gloves left there and I took a pair of them before I opened the box's bronze lid. 

Inside it, laying over several layers of a deep crimson velvety-like cloth was the jeweled chalice. I took it in my hands with great care and I felt like an electricity jolt going through my body. Immediately, my eyes were forced to look inside the two glued together cups. The dark brown glass was very compelling to me and I felt as if I were looking into an endless, full of peace and bliss abyss. 

I needed to take my eyes away from it or I'd have lost myself inside it. I preferred to look at the outer work done on the cup. As Michel had told, the chalice was made from two simple bowls glued together in opposite directions. Whereas the cups interior was very dark, the crystal shone brightly in the outside; the glass looked as if gold had been used to imitate the same patterns a drop of milk makes in a tea cup or when you look at the stars circling around a black hole. It was a strange artwork, only seen in a few Gallé glasses; the achieved effect was to make the cup look as if it were made out of onyx stone though it was very thick glass. It was so different to any other Roman glasses I've seen before, but I'm not an expert in that field. 

The cups were embellished with a thick jeweled gold rim at the top which showed an intricate setting of gemstones embellished with an intricate gold filigree depicting drawings, arches, spirals and small snails. I think the gemstones were rubies, pearls, amethysts and sapphires. From the top part descended four lines forming columns to the crux of the chalice.  The centre part, where both cups had been joined, had also some squared golden crosses placed over a green enamel. The base of the cup, only showed a very delicate filigree with tiny pearls that repeated part of the columns motives and that simplicity counterbalanced very well with all the rich stones and heavy designs on the top. 

Very carefully (and very impressed) I set the chalice on top of the table. Out of nowhere, Konrad had a portfolio and was getting some papers out. 

“As you can see in these documents,” Konrad handed me a thick folder with the Tübingen University seal on every page and I began to do my best to read the report written in German. The words didn't make any sense to me. 

“The glass was made in the beginning of the fourth century AD. Both cups or let’s say bowls were created using the technique of sagging glass over a convex previous mould. This style of brown glass is typical of that period and those slight golden lines you see around the top are made of gold. The gold foil is sandwiched between two pieces of glass and heated over and over until they fuse together. This technique began in the late Empire, III or IV century AD. Some Christian tombs were marked with plates made with this technique, portraying the deceased ones' features. It was luxury product, nothing that could be found in Galilee at the time this object was supposed to come from. The dates do not match at all, Guntram.” Those last words came out very harshly and well punctuated so I would get the idea. 

The Holy Grail got a “TÜV SÜD Gepruft” seal. Wonderful!

“It is nothing but a wonderful artwork,” Goran said to me. “Maybe Merovingian, but I'm not sure.” 

What I don't get is why using such an expensive technique over two pieces of normal brown glass? The interior of the cup was very different to the outside. It makes no sense at all. Would you lay gold over a glass you buy for fifty cents? Would you go all over the process of heating an old glass to put gold inside it? 

“The ornaments?” I asked as I picked and turned around the cup very carefully. That thick glass shone in a wonderful way as if it would have a light of its own, not as if the electrical lights would have lightened it up. It literally glowed from under the gold embellishments. It had an onyx stone likeness with all the tiny lines of gold put inside it. I don't know how else to describe it. It's indescribable.  

“Romanesque mostly, from the middle of the XI century. A beautiful goldsmith work.”  Konrad told me. 

“Would you like to hold it?” I asked Di Mattei. The man was dying for it though his face showed nothing but utter boredom.

“Would you allow me to?” He was very shocked that I was offering it to him. 

Enrico slowly took a pair of gloves from the box and put them on. I could say he was deeply moved by the chance of touching it. He took the cup in his hands and made it turn around under the led tube lights to better admire it. I think time stood still for him just like it did for me. 

“It's an impressive antiquity. Worthy of a museum,” he finally said as he returned the chalice to me. 

“I don't plane to donate it any time soon,” Goran replied nonchalantly. “The craftsmanship is beautifully executed but nothing else.” 

I put the goblet back in its wooden box. I'm not sure if that deep (old) crimson velvet is adequate to preserve it. The fabric starts to look orange-yellowish in some parts. I guess it was inlaid in the box many centuries ago. 

“I don't think a vault is the best place for it to be.” I said clearly. 

“It can't be more protected than where it is. Its former place was... inappropriate,” Konrad stated.  

“It was kept in one of my relatives’ vault at St. Madeleine in Toulouse.” I said. “I wonder how it got here.” 

“It was taken and stored here, in much better conditions, back in 1991.” Konrad told me with that regal airs of his. “Per my orders.” 

“You had no right to take it away from where my father put it.” I said and Di Mattei looked at me like a scared rabbit. Well, now you'll see why they call me Dachs at my back. “This chalice belongs to my family. It was entrusted to us long time ago, not to you.” 

“It belongs to the Order now,” Goran interfered. “Your father gave it to us.” 

“My father gave up to any claims about our heritage so the Duke's rule could be legitimated. This object was not included in the original deal, if I see correctly. Its hiding place was disclosed so it wouldn't be forever lost.” My blood was beginning to boil and the Italian was looking at me with a strange face. 

“Guntram it's not the time to start a pointless quarrel over something that isn't for real,” Goran told me. “The cup stays where it is.” 

“Should it not be my decision?”

“No,” said Goran. “It belongs to the Order.” 

“Do you remember the cases against Swiss banks for pocketing the money from Jews killed by the Nazis?” Like for example that painting I just saw. My ass your grandfather paid a fair price for it, Konrad. 

“That's ridiculous!” Konrad was very upset. “You have no claims over it.” 

“Did my father sign you any papers for it? Any kind of documents to prove your ownership over this cup?” 

“Of course not! It was a gentlemen's pact.” 

“Which you didn't fulfill at all,” I replied sharply. “I have all the documents showing the provenance of this piece and it certainly belongs to me. It was registered under my name just before my father passed away.” 

“I refuse to argue over this nonsense.” Konrad said through clipped teeth and I glared at him. That you're becoming softer and softer doesn't give you the right to distribute my inheritance, Kurt's inheritance, among all the Mystic European Gangsters. 

“Very well, let's do not argue then,” I said coldly. “We not, let the lawyers do it for us. 

“Guntram, let's be reasonable,” Goran told me. “What would you do with it? Place it on top of the fireplace? It's well protected here. You have no use for it.” 

“If it's a compensation what you seek, we can discuss it.” Konrad said and I would have smashed his thick head against the wall. 

You're becoming not only softer but dumber, Konrad. I was truly furious at his words. “Sure, we go to Christies', get it appraised and you can add the ten or eleven years alimony you forgot to pay to the final tab.” 

Konrad looked at me stricken. What was he expecting? Doesn't he know me well still? 

“Guntram, let's be reasonable,” Goran told me again. “The long history of troubles this particular piece of art has caused inside the Order prevents you from getting it back. If it were just because of me, you could take it with you right now. Alas, there's a legend circling around it, and my leadership is already well contested by some members to spice it up with this the hassle of the Holy Grail Knights revival.” 

“Goran, you know that I don't believe in that story and I would never challenge you. Remember who asked you to be here.” I replied. 

“A decision I regret every day,” Goran told me and Di Mattei arched his eyebrows for a millisecond. “This thing can't leave this room. I have enough in my hands as it is.”

“My brother, you know I don't want it for myself but for my son. It belongs to him, not to me. If you return it to us, I give you my word of never showing it to the world. Any kind of challenges to your leadership will not come from my side.”  

Goran looked at me with that look of his for a long time. I didn't avert my eyes because that's the worst thing you can do when you're dealing with him. 

“Will you swear it?” 

“Over my son's head.” I replied and Konrad opened his mouth to protest but I shut him up with a glance. “I will take it to a safe place and keep it there. A bank's vault isn't the most appropriate place for it to be.” 

I could tell Goran was full of doubts. It's not that I'm going to start yelling in the next meeting that I want to be the next Hochmeister. I'm nuts but not that much. 

“If any other person in the world would ask me this, I would shoot him dead,” Goran said slowly. “Only because it is you, little brother, I'll grant your request but you must swear that you and none of your children will have any claims in my succession or in the future.”

“I can't swear for the Lintorffs' blood,” I said and Konrad seemed to be right on the edge. “I can only swear for mine.” 

“It's only yours which is required,” Goran told me. 

“I swear on my son's head that not I or none of my bloodline will ever reveal the origins of this cup or use it in any way that can alter the Order's natural succession. I swear this cup will not be used to gain any earthly powers, so help me God.” 

Goran closed the wooden box lid and gave it to me. “Please, don't make me regret this.” 

“I won't, my brother.” I took the box in my hands and it felt like a ton as I clutched it against my chest. 

Konrad was furious and walked out of the room like a tsunami.

“You'll have trouble at home,” Goran told me. 

“So be it,” I shrugged. “My son goes first.” 

“Councillor Di Mattei should drive you home, Guntram. I'll do my best to calm down the Duke.” Goran told me because he knows the Old Waltz better than me. 

“Yes, of course,” Enrico said. “Do you need help with that?” 

No, not yet. There's no hurry Sir Gawain. 

“If you'd be so kind as to drive me to my flat,” I said. “It's near Mr. Pavicevic's house.” I don't know if Goran knows what this man is really into, but let's avoid another internal war. 

We slowly walked all the stairs up and contrary to my expectations, Konrad wasn't fuming inside Goran's car. He was doing it at the reception, pacing like a caged lion. He didn't wait for the official, wide eyed, just in, receptionist to make her presence scarce before he started to shout at me. 

“How could you?” he yelled and I guess she never saw the Duke of Wittstock yell like that; that's reserved for the upper levels in the bank's food chain. “You dared to make a difference between our children! They're all the same!” 

“Konrad, you know this isn't the place nor the time to discuss it,” I said firmly and look girl, if you (like I did) ever thought that noblemen were polite to each other, you'll see that we behave like two rowdy characters out from a Jack London novel. 

“You placed your bloodline over mine!” 

“I defended my son's interests! If you're so blind to see it...” 

“I only see that you make a clear difference between my boys and your boy! I never did! You'll bring that wretched thing home and plan to give it to him in the future.” 

I could tell he was really furious with me and so was I. Enrico got the box shoved into his chest and I turned around to face him. 

“Don't you dare to tell me that I don't take care of all of the boys! I treat them all the same!” 

“I don't think so. You only think on that bloody thing and hide behind Kurt to hide your cowardice at admitting what you're thinking! That your blood is better than mine! You're all the same!” Konrad roared. 

“I never pegged you for someone with such a low self-esteem, Konrad,” I said acidly. “You only want to crush or bend my family to your will.” 

“I never did something like this!” Konrad shouted at me again. Sometimes I really ask myself if he really believes that trash or if he's one of the best actors I've ever seen. 

Just when I was going to tell him what I really think, Goran intervened just before we would start a crusade of our own. “My Duke, Vicomte, there is really no need to argue over this artifact. Both of you have proven to be excellent parents to your children.” 

That cooled us down just a bit. Just a bit. Peasantries always do the trick. We kept our mouths shut and glared at each other. 

“Mr. Di Mattei, can you drive Guntram back home? I'm afraid we're running late for a meeting,” Goran said as he gauged that the fire wasn't off. 

Enrico was more than glad to baby sit me and the cup for a little longer. I could have called up for a driver, but I was too upset to wait for one. I only watched how my husband turned around and left the building, truly furious with me.

I looked at Enrico and he handed me the box back. Out of nowhere, a black car showed up and a bodyguard rushed to open the back door for us. I went inside and he followed me. 

“Your flat?” he asked me when the bodyguard closed the door behind him. 

“No, I'd like to go somewhere else.” My father started this mess; it's logical that he picks up the pieces. I gave Enrico his address and thought that the poor man was in for a surprise. 

As usual, Fairuza and her niece were cleaning his villa and fighting with the vacuum cleaner. Michel should listen to her and buy her something easier to handle before she hits him with the broomstick. “No baby today?” she asked me disappointed and I shook my head. She went for him, reading some papers from the Lintorff Foundation at his library. 

Michel didn't look surprised to see me at his house at 8 a.m., and gallantly offered breakfast to us. The one who was shocked was Enrico when he saw us standing together. 

My mother was truly faithful to my father. We look very much the same but people never pay attention to detail so we can get away with the story that he's my godfather. 

“Perfetto,” Enrico babbled when he recognized Michel. 

“I'm glad you still remember me, Enrico. It's been a long time,” My father said as if it were the most sensible thing to do. “But I'm not a Perfect One, I'm an ordinary sinner just like you.” And just like that, he left the stunned man to himself. 

“Is that it?” My father pointed his finger towards the wooden box as if he didn't know it already. 

“Yes, it is, Michel,” I gave it to him and he put it on top of the coffee table and made no move to open it. “Are you not going to open it?” I asked as watched how Enrico collapsed over one of his chairs. This poor man is going to die “on the job” on any day. 

“I know it, Guntram. Did you see it?” 

“I did,” I preferred to keep all what I felt there to myself. 

“So? Do you believe me now?” 

“I do.” I said without thinking my answer twice. “I mean, it's a beautiful piece. Goran gave it to me.” 

“Only that? You can speak freely. Mr. Di Mattei is one of us,” my father said. 

“Maybe my impressions were influenced by my own expectations. It was nothing.” I started and my father only arched an eyebrow to make me fall into my “babbling psycho” mode. “It's from the fourth century,” I added nervously. “Hardly the same time as our Savior.” 

“What did you feel, Guntram? Don't try to lie to me. I know you better than anyone else in this world.” Well, that's quite true, but let’s keep it to myself. 

“Only excitement at seeing it... It's a legend.” I said. 

“No, it isn't. I saw how you reacted when you laid your eyes upon the holy chalice for the first time.” Enrico, the tattle teller said, and honestly, I thought that the first rule among mobsters was to keep your mouth shut. 

“The inside parts of the cup... are special.” Great, I just admitted a piece of glass is a mystical thing. My father looked at me expectantly. “Very well, they have an energy of its own, the rest is nice but nothing out of the ordinary, metaphysically speaking.” 

“That's the only real part of the cup.” Michel said. “The glass from the fourth century was applied over the original pieces to protect them. Maybe it was done in Syria but we don't really know.” 

“You had pieces of the Holy Grail or let's better say, a cup from the first century and laid another layer of glass over it?” That alone was a sacrilege to the Arts without taking religion into account. 

“Exactly. That old, simple glass withstood the fire when any other piece would have been broken just to be exposed to the flame. That's what Lintorff's experts can't grasp.” 

I have my doubts. I think glass can be heated to the melting point several times, but I'm not sure. I snorted incredulously and my father looked at me in that particular way he has. “You don't believe it?” 

“I can't believe that a Cathar who, in theory denies the human nature of Christ, is so anxious to make me believe this is the cup of our Savior,” I replied. He's not the only lawyer in the family. 

“I'm convinced it is,” Enrico said pensively, away from our own little war. “Where will you keep it?” 

That's a safe topic. Good for Enrico. “I don't know.  A bank's vault is not the most holy place in the world and regardless that neither this piece is the Holy Grail or not, I think it was used as a chalice for Mass and therefore it's consecrated.” 

“It was used in the Mass for your baptism, Guntram.” My father explained and I really wanted to strangle him right there. What a motherfucker-goody he can be! He doesn't believe in the Church and brings it up each time I'm in doubt. 

“Out of respect to the people who took Communion,” I barked at him, “it should be kept in a Church. Perhaps not displayed but kept in a holy place.” 

“The Church of Rome is the most unholy place to put it.” Michel said. “They twisted all of Jesus Christ teachings. They're only power-hungry seekers.” 

“I wasn't thinking on the Vatican, father,” I said upset at his words. 

“Then where?”

“I don't know. Enrico?” After all, he's the guy who let his flesh be burned with our symbol. 

“It's your decision, sir,” he told me. “We will do everything in our hands to protect it. We will go wherever you say.” 

“How many of you are there?” I asked. 

“About two to three thousand,” Enrico answered earnestly. 

“Thabo could help you,” Michel referred to his own Security Head, an Ethiopian Copt who protects him with his life. I know Thabo's people and they would wipe the floors with Goran's men. They're quiet and humble but fierce. 

“The situation in Africa is quite unstable,” I replied. “Many churches being burned down by Boko Haram terrorists. It's too risky. Thabo's people can't predict when or where a bomb will blast.” 

“You're right,” Michel said, “but there's a Coptic Church here in Switzerland, near Geneva.” 

“If I put it there, then I'll get Konrad after my throat and probably yours too, Michel.”

“I can offer my own family church near Bari,” Enrico offered and I shook my head. 

“Too risky. Goran would start to wonder when we became best-pals in no time,” I said to Enrico. I took another look inside the chalice and my head spun around. It felt like I had put my fingers inside the plug. I closed my eyes and listened to my inner voice. 

“The chapel at the Lintorff's family castle will be perfect for it. The tabernacle is large enough to contain this cup and the chalice we normally use.” 

Both men looked at me as if I were mad. “No one will touch it there and Konrad and Goran will be happy with my decision. As I said before, I have no further plans for this antiquity. Is that clear enough?” 

“Guntram...,” started Michel but I cut him off. 

“I don't want to hear it. You lost it some twenty years ago and I recovered it. I decide what to do with it and the best place for this cup is where I say.” 

“This is impossible!” my father admonished me. “People are expecting to see it again.” 

“I’ll sell tickets,” I barked. Really, he was grating my nerves and if he was thinking to start another coup d'État, he would fight with me first. 

“Guntram, may I call you like this, sir?” Enrico asked me and I nodded. “Many of us swore to defend this sacred object with our lives. If you place it there, we will be denied again of seeing it. Please don't do it.” 

“The cup stays where I say. Even if it's not real, it's a valuable antiquity. I can lend it for the Christmas Mass at the Church you tell and the chalice will recover its original and sole use, but I will not let you or anyone else run around with it and much less, start another internal war inside the Order. We have enough trouble as we are.” 

“Guntram....” 

“Save it, father.” I growled again. “It's my prerogative.” 

Enrico looked at me like a frightened rabbit and honestly I don't know why. He's the mean mobster, not I. “Will you really let us have it for celebrating the Mass?” he asked me fearfully. 

I took another look at the cup and I swear it glowed in a funny way. “Yes, I will. It must be consecrated again and you will swear that its origins will never be disclosed to anyone outside your order. This object can't be used to gain power over other people” I put it back inside its box and closed the lid. 

“I swear it on my life, Grand Master.” Enrico told me. “I will tell no one but the other six heads that the cup has been recovered. They deserve to know it.” 

“I agree with you, Enrico and I will like to meet the other heads, too.” I didn't like a bit he called me Grand Master... It's too close to Hochmeister and I hold no titles like this at all. 

“It can be arranged, sir,” he told me. “You're the true heir to your ancestors.” 

I hope not. 

“There are no real or physical certainties about the origins of this piece,” I said. “Saying something besides that this is an old cup created in the fourth century is lying to people; deceiving them for who knows what reasons. As you saw, there were no mystical manifestations or anything of that sort when you held it in your hands. We are projecting all of our desires to see Christ into this cup, but He is inside our hearts, not in an object.” 

“For many people its existence would be a proof of our Lord's presence upon this earth.” 

“A cup? Do you believe in God because you see the cathedrals standing in the middle of our cities, Enrico?” 

“No,” he answered me and sounded embarrassed like a five-year-old caught with the hand inside the cookie jar. 

“So you must understand my point, Enrico. Making the existence of this cup public can only cause havoc. You don't need material objects to find your own faith. If you want to see a Grail, go to León in Spain, to the Colegiata and see the one from Doña Urraca. Many believe it's the original but there are no massive conversions around it. In fact, it's on display in one of the Museum's rooms and when I was there, I saw nobody else besides me in the room. No queues, no screaming masses. Nothing at all.” 

“There must be something we can do to make people recover their faith.” 

“But it isn't in our hands.” I said firmly. “People will find faith when the tribulations come, not before, not after them.” 

“Guntram, this chalice doesn't belong to us but to mankind,” my father intervened. 

“I know, but as you said, I'm its keeper until my children can do it. In these times of utter disbelief, to show an object like this would only grant us scorn. Nothing would be achieved and more would be lost. Whether it is our Lord's cup or not remains to be seen but I will not let vulgar or incredulous people to deface what once was a sacred object used for the holiest of the sacraments.”

“I still disagree with your decision, Guntram,” Michel told me. 

“Nothing like hiding things in the broad light, isn't it, Michel? You have some experience in that.” 

“Guntram, you might run out of luck some day. Lintorff idolizes the Vatican and will do anything for it. He has the mentality of a rabid crusader.” 

“At the moment, he behaves like a stricken kitten, not the tiger I used to know,” I replied bitterly. “Actually, he's a bit disappointed with the new Pope's views and he didn't rise a finger to meet with anybody of his entourage. He only gives money, but that you already know, and he's quite upset that Charitas behaves like a charity NGO and not like a Church vehicle to help and achieve conversions. I fear one of these days, Vatican cronies will wake up and find that Konrad's money is gone and Goran will support him.” 

“I find that hard to believe. He's over fifty years old. He will not change his beliefs in a year or two.” 

“I live with him, not you,” I retorted quite upset because of the permanent “preaching” I'm subjected each time I'm with him. “Since I returned from Russia, he's been getting more and more withdrawn. Depressive even. He's tired the whole time, only wants to spend time with the children and shies away from any kind of contact with people and leaves his businesses run on autopilot when before he was on top of everything. This year, he wasn't even setting a foot in Davos. Sometimes I wonder if he's happy that I'm back or not. Maybe it was a bad idea that I came back.” I spilled the truth in one single paragraph. You won't see that happening many more times in this life. 

“Guntram, the man has been under an incredible amount of stress,” Michel told me. “He's exhausted and he will return to his old ways once he's recovered from his ordeal.” 

“He named Goran in less than five minutes, father. It took me much longer to persuade Goran to take the job than what it took for Konrad to sign his resignation. I was convinced he would die on his desk, holding his blasted Blackberry and now, he even skips office hours. He makes stupid mistakes just because of his permanent inattention. Six or seven years ago, he ruined his own mother because of what had happened between us.” Enrico looked at me in shock. Yes, I guess there are limits for Italian mobsters and the mamma is like the Great China Wall. 

“Please, my friend,” I said to him, “I trust you will keep all this to yourself.” 

“Yes, of course.” Enrico said hurriedly. “None of my business.” Michel only looked at me with his “I told you so,” face.

“Give it a year or two and Pavicevic's will find himself unemployed,” Michel snorted. “A leopard doesn't change his spots.” 

“He's changed and I think he's burned out.” 

“In good and in bad times, in sickness and in health, Guntram.” My father knows how to bury the knife just to the handle. “This is the road you chose and nobody forced you to,” he added to continue burying it beyond the handle. “Anyway, Lintorff has nothing that he hasn't brought upon his head by himself,” he shrugged me off. 

“I go home now,” I told him seriously and picked up the box. “Good day.” 

“Good bye, Guntram. Don't forget to bring Kurt for tea tomorrow afternoon.” 

Enrico said his own goodbyes quickly and accompanied me to the door. Fefo was already there, leaning against the car and looking quite bored. I said good bye to Enrico and got inside the car. He drove me back to the castle while he spoke a lot about John (or I think so) 

My boys were out for school but Kurt was still there, learning his multiplication tables with Friederich. I have to speak with him so he doesn't push it too far or there will be no school in this earth that takes my son in. 

I asked Friederich for the keys to the tabernacle and the chapel. He looked at me dumbfounded and then he fixed his blue eyes on the box in my hand. 

“Is that it?” he asked me softly and Kurt jumped to attention as he smelled something was going on. 

“Yes, it is. I would like to put it on the lower shelf inside the tabernacle. It's the best place for it. Do you think there will be any problems?” 

“No, I think not,” he said slowly. “This cup was consecrated and I don't think it has been de-consecrated ever. Nevertheless, I'm reluctant that you put any form inside it before Pater Bruno decides what to do with it.” 

“It will not be used.” I said and pushed my son away because he was doing his best to crawl upon me to check what I had inside the mystery wooden box. “Leave it, Kurt!” I admonished him and he pouted. “There are no candies inside this.”  As if that line would stop him.

“I want to see.” 

“Curiosity killed the cat.” I answered back and moved the box away from him. 

“No, cats are clever and run away when there's trouble,” he answered. 

His blessed four year old precocity is driving me nuts. Damned be the moment I let him study with Friederich. He speaks much better and knows more many more words than he should. Why can't he be happy with a pencil box like I was? Moronic Constantin said that he had inherited “my sweet nature”. My ass! 

“It's something very old and not meant for little children.” I said softer as confrontation with him is like facing a bull dressed in red. 

“I'm not little,” he replied and I saw how Friederich involuntarily moved away from the table, letting me all the joy of putting my smallest child back in place. Klaus and Karl never gave me so much trouble as he... and Kurt doesn't believe in tantrums as a way to achieve his goals; he just tries and tries your patience until he gets what he wants. It's harder to see that kind of shit coming.

“Kurt, this is an antiquity. A very old and expensive glass. You could break it.” 

“I will only look, no touching, like your watch.” Yes, that's another one. That poor Breguet is endangered species since Kurt saw it at my wedding. 

“Shouldn't you be doing your homework?” I said. 

“Finished.” I knew there that the battle was lost and it's better to show the cup before I have someone climbing over the tabernacle in the dead of night. 

“All right. Just a glimpse and you'll be off. No touching or jumping over this cup. It's very fragile and has survived many, many centuries to lose it just because of you.” 

Kurt nodded and he literally beamed with excitement. I put the box on the table and opened it, removing the cup with my hands to better show it. He smiled at seeing the little snails on the bottom and clapped his hands in delight. 

“It shines!” he told me and my blood froze. 

“It's the gold inside the glass,” I said nervously. 

“No, it isn't. It glows.” 

“It's just an optical illusion, a trick of the eye.” Kurt frowned at me and looked hurt because of my words. I offered it to Friederich but he didn't want to touch it. 

“Now, young man, you've seen enough. Go outside to play,” I said and Kurt bolted away. I put it back in its box. 

“I'm surprised you didn't say what it is supposed to be.” 

“I would like that people stop spreading such stories.” I replied. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened when I held it for the first time. It's just a beautiful glass from the fourth century AC.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” Friederich said. “There is nothing in the Bible that acknowledges the existence of such an object.” 

“I know. The Holy Grail legend is something created in the ninth or tenth century.” 

“Will you put it in our chapel yet?” 

“I think that's the best place. It belongs to the family yet it was used as a sacred object.” 

“You know that there is a special cabinet for the chalices formerly used by the Lintorff family,” Friederich reminded me. 

“I do, but I feel uncomfortable to put it there, on display.” I said and he nodded. 

“Very well, it will be done as you want,” he told me and extended me a set of keys. “Christoph is working or taking photos in the chapel now, but I think that should be a problem.” 

“Can you come with me?” All right, I'm the four-year-old, not Kurt. “I used to be an altar boy, but I'm afraid to touch something... in the wrong way.” 

“There are no wafers left from Sunday,” Friederich told me. 

We left his office and I saw several people carrying very big glass containers and Friederich explained me that they were the aquarium people, working for the lobster's new “habitat”. I frowned but said nothing as that's a lost battle; that blue monster is here to stay. 

“I argued with Konrad,” I confessed to Friederich when we crossed the courtyard. “Over the cup.” 

“This object brings him many painful memories,” Friederich replied.

“About?” 

“Your uncle.” Friederich was visibly upset and I knew that was the right time to leave it there. “It would be best to leave it in one place and don't handle it too much.” 

“I honestly have no plans for it. My idea is to leave it there. Undisturbed.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” Friederich sounded dry. 

“We said many things to each other,” I confessed ashamed and he looked at me. 

“Both of you need to learn when to be silent,” he told me. “Speak with him before this escalates more.” 

“I'm a bit ashamed of what I said to him and furious at the same time because he thinks I make differences between the boys.” 

“All parents do it,” Friederich smiled at me. “All parents have a favorite child.” 

“I'm not putting Kurt's well being before his brothers.” 

“You always favor Klaus Maria and Karl Maria to a lesser extent. Konrad lets the little one get away with almost everything.”

“Poor Karl, it's hard to be in the middle.” 

“I think he makes the best out of this situation by playing you both.” Friederich told me and he's right. You never know what he's up to and probably we will never know because he knows how to hide well his own skeletons. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, as they say. 

Christoph was inside the church but he didn't pay much attention to us, busy frowning at a large fungus stain on the wall near St. Anne. There were strong lights illuminating the place and the damage was worse than I had originally estimated. 

I put the chalice's box inside the tabernacle and gave the key back to Friederich. “I must see what Kurt is doing,” I told him and went away. 

I had lunch with Christoph, Friederich and Kurt and later we spent the whole afternoon looking at the people working in Tweezy's new house. I must admit that Konrad overdid himself this time with a 1.000 liters aquarium and many more sea fishes, corals and anemone. The blasted thing looks very well inside its new house and I only hope it doesn't cut off one of Kurt's fingers. 

Kurt behaved very well till his brothers came back from school and began to bicker among themselves because they were jealous Kurt was getting a new pet and they nothing. My lovely son stuck out his tongue at his elder brothers and before they would kill him, I sent him away with Birgitte. I told the boys that maybe their father was going to let them have another dog and Klaus and Karl looked at me very upset. 

“We don't want a mini dog.” said Karl. “Not one so small like Mopsi. We want a real dog.” 

Bye bye to the “Scottie”. “What kind of dog?” I asked. 

“A Rotweiller, like the ones Milan and Ratko have.” 

Knowing the state of affairs of this house, Konrad will let the boys smuggle the dog inside our bed. “No, that's too big,” I said. 

“I want a crocodile,” said Karl. 

“No way.” I replied. “Nobody has a crocodile at home. They eat people.” 

“George has one in his garden... and a tiger.” Karl told me and I cursed little George and his doting divorced father. Little George has even a Lamborghini especially designed for children along with a private mini zoo. Little George is the “spoilest” brat I've ever seen and I've seen my lot. The mother should have taken more money from that idiot, but then, she would have spent it on the boy. It's an endless cycle. 

“No crocodiles or any other exotic pet in this house. We have enough with the peacocks, the ducks, the frogs and who knows what else lives in the forest. Choose something nice like a dog, a cat, a canary, a turtle or...”

“I want a fox. A fennec,” Klaus said. “Marie Eugenie has one. It rocks.” 

“No!” 

“How about a loris? They look great! I know someone who has one,” Karl told me. 

Now, I'm starting to think that Paris Hilton with her several thousand dollars dog is a sensible girl. Why can't rich parents buy a normal pet? Is it because the richer you are, the more exclusive you need to be? How about a panda? Or a rhino?

“I'll make you a list of what you can choose from.” I said. 

“It'd be great to have a “smallworld” account so we can post a picture of Tweezy,”  Klaus told me and I looked like an idiot because I have no idea of what is that. 

“Henrietta's mother says that papa should call her and she will give him an invitation for us,” Karl informed me and the mercury was at the top because that woman was kindred spirits with Stefania since the first day they saw each other. Of course, now that the other is out, maybe it's time to try her luck with the billionaire “widower”. We should have thrown a two thousand people party to announce our marriage and maybe she'd get the idea. 

“What's that? A Facebook for children?” 

“No!” Karl howled at the sacrilege of my ignorance. “It's for people like us to post their pictures and leave comments. Not anyone can enter. You need to know someone and have a bank account.” 

“No, it was to own a bank.” Klaus said confidently. “And a jet!”

“But papa's plane is too old.” 

“He should buy a new one. A Bombardier.” 

I don't tell that woman if she should dress her brat at Gucci or not, so she shouldn't tell me if I need a new plane or not! Lord! What's wrong with these people? Can't they spend their money quickly enough? 

“You'll get a koala before I let you sign up for that.... website.” 

“Can we buy a koala?” both boys looked at me expectantly. 

“No! You'll get a list and that will be all!” 

“A dog is sooooo common,” Karl whined. 

“You wanted a Rotweiller two minutes ago.” I rebuked. 

“Why Kurt gets whatever he wants and we don't?” Klaus whined and I didn't know what to tell. 

“Your father is against having wild animals in the house.” I said firmly. “Each one of you will get the animal you want, but I will not walk your dogs and if someone else has to do it, you will pay for his time.”  

“Why are you so stingy?” That was Karl howling again. 

“I'm not. This is called education and responsible parenthood. I will not yield to your whims.”

These two will not get an internship at the bank; they will get a job as stockers in a supermarket to learn some common sense. I left them alone, still envious that his little brother got an aquarium and they nothing. If they want something “exclusive”, then they can show Tweezy to their friends. That thing cost more than Paris Hilton dogs. If it misbehaves, it can go to the pot, unlike the dog.

I went back to my bedroom and made the list. Then, I went back to the chapel and Christoph was looking gloomier than before because he had found something else broken. We spoke lengthy about his plans for the fresco and that we needed an architect to fix something else. He knows one. Konrad's father knew a lot about banking but nothing about construction and therefore the people who restored the chapel in the sixties did a sloppy work. 

At eight there were no signs of Konrad at home and I wondered if he -as usual- had taken a plane to somewhere where the waters were calmer. Friederich told me, very mortified, that “his Grace had decided to dine at the Königshalle”. Not a surprise. I dined alone and went to write in my desk about all this rubbish. Maybe I'll go to my father's if he comes back at a sensible hour.

* * * 

Guntram de Lisle's diary

May 23^rd, 2014

To say that I'm exhausted is a lie. I'm a mental walking dead. Konrad came home at 12 a.m last night. In a sour mood, to be precise. Well, with the mood of thousand devils and a bit drunk. He came to our bedroom and ostentatiously took his pyjamas from under his pillows. 

“Where are you going?” I asked for politeness' sake because I knew he was going to one of the guest rooms in the floor below. 

He looked at me furiously and I held his gaze. “This has been my room for over thirty years,” he told me. “You must leave, not I! And he yanked me by my arm out of the bed. 

I was appalled by his lack of manners. “Very well, suit yourself,” I answered and picked my robe and went to sleep in the blue room downstairs. 

Of course, I couldn't sleep so furious I was. Fuming does nothing good for your sleep. Only one little thing like giving me back what's righteously mine, and he behaves like a spoilt brat. He's well aware that I'd never lift a finger against him. 

About 3 a.m., I heard someone entering in my room and getting under my covers. “I'm sorry, Maus,” Konrad said and snuggled his body next to mine. I nearly hit him but his tone made me think twice. 

“Why do you always behave like a psycho each time I do something you don't like?” I sighed instead. 

“Maybe because I'm a psycho,” he told me sadly and I embraced him tighter than before. “Almost nobody could endure my character for so long like you do, Maus. I'm sorry for all the things I said.”

I kissed him on the lips. “I wasn't better than you,” I said feeling very embarrassed at the memory of our morning scene. “Why are you so upset with me? You know that the cup legitimately belongs to me.” 

“I do, but when I saw you with it,” he stopped and looked away. 

“What happened?” I pressed. 

“You'll be furious with me when I tell it,” he mumbled. 

“I was furious with you when you kicked me out of my bed. I slept there for almost ten years.” I massaged his temples the way he likes and he came closer to me. 

“You'll hate me for this,” he mumbled again and I could feel he was totally abashed and tired.

“What was it? The cup is here and will stay here. I really don't believe that story that this is Jesus Christ's last supper chalice. Really not.” 

“I know, but other people do and...” 

“I won't start my own church,” I told him. “I won't let my father start another campaign against you or Goran. I think he doesn't even want to.” 

“When you held it in your hands, I saw your uncle and everything came back, crashing down on me,” Konrad confessed and before I could say anything, he hurriedly added, “I know you're nothing like him. It's just that I couldn't help it.” 

I held him tighter against my body because I know he's still wounded from all what happened in 1989. It's been decades but he can't let it go. 

“I can't lose you again,” he muttered. “I'm so tired that I don't know if I'll have the strength to prevent it. I don't understand what has happened to me.” 

“You're overstressed.” I kissed him again, letting him place his body over mine. We began to kiss each other for longer and longer periods and I could feel how despondent he was and how much he needed me in his life. Just like when we just met. Just like when I fell in love with him. 

Without knowing it, our clothes were away and we made love in a soft way. It's been son long since we did it without been in a hurry or just out of compromise. 

It was incredible to feel him again inside me without any kind of mental restrains or pressures over us. “I love you,” he whispered in my ear just before he achieved his climax and I kissed him back with passion. 

“I love you even if you're a psycho,” I said as I snuggled against his chest. 

“I can't live without you,” he told me again. “Really Guntram, I can't.” 

“I don't want to leave you,” I reassured him. “Repin is far away.” 

“I lost you once and it was all my fault.” 

“It wasn't your fault,” I said for the hundredth time. “I never blamed you for what happened. It was my fault because I didn't listen to you.” 

“You've changed since you came back,” Konrad told me once more. “You're different.” 

“I lost my innocence,” I replied. “I can't think any longer that people are nice and good. I'm trying to find a new balance and a new outlook for my life. I also need you with me.”

“I'm with you. I don't want to grow old alone.” 

“Maybe we should go somewhere together, get a holiday or something.” 

“The boys wouldn't be happy about it.” 

“They won't go to Scotland for a dog. They want something bigger and flashier.” I told him. “Like a fox.” 

“No animals included in the endangered species list, Guntram. They'll get a Scottie and that will be all.” He told me and suddenly the vision of the war we are going to face pretty soon came to me. 

“What were you doing in the Königshalle? You never dine there.” 

“It was a meeting with Ferdinand, Michael and Goran,” he told me. “You should pass by his flat tomorrow.” 

“Why? The cup stays here, it's well locked and nobody's moving it around.” 

“His girlfriend showed him the door and closed it with the biggest lock you can imagine. The lady doesn't want to see him ever again.” Konrad said and grimaced at the memory of the story of the fight. “That's why he was so keen to make amendments with you the other day.” 

“María fought with him?” That’s a shock. She’s so sweet. 

“Broke the engagement and forbade him to set a foot in her shop. In fact, we are all banned from her shop. A real pity because I was getting used to get cake with my coffee twice per week.”  

“What happened?” I asked horrified. “I'm sure Goran has done nothing wrong to her. He's loyal...” 

“He was accused of lying to her.” 

“He hasn't any other girl but she!” 

“Krajina.” 

“Krajina?” I was puzzled. Goran's fiancée from before the war was killed in a Nato raid. All the girls we had around went home or married Marko or became Milan's girlfriend.  It couldn't be an affair. 

“Women shouldn't be using Google so much!” Konrad finally exploded in sheer frustration. “Look that little idiot and Bluebeard! All what she had to do was to leave that key in a high shelf and forget about the matter! He would have come back and let her have all his money.” 

“You don't make any sense.” I was frustrated now. The “boys” were out and as usual covering each other backs in one of their twisted ways. Thank God Cecilia and Monika can knock some sense into two of them and things don't turn up so crazy. 

“About a month ago, Goran decided to ask her for marriage. I wasn't very convinced about it but as he's heading in a beeline towards spinsterhood, I let it go. Ferdinand, as usual, thought it was a good idea and Michael advised him on the ring.” 

“Sounds like a sound plan.” Well, it doesn't but fighting over it is useless. I'd only get an ulcer and they won't listen to me.

“It was,” Konrad told me with sufficiency. “She accepted him and they set the date in a year. I even offered our home and the cook, since I'm the official caterer as you call me.” That phrase made me feel a bit guilty. 

“I see nothing wrong so far.” 

“Goran should have been a little more straightforward with her,” Konrad said so quickly that I had trouble to understand him. “He told her he worked in a bank, which is true, but the lady, for some unknown reason, assumed he was a cashier or a broker,” Those two words came out laced with scorn. “When she saw his flat, she began to wonder how big his real financial status was and he explained it to her to a certain amount. After all, it's tacky to speak about money.” 

Well, finding out that the boyfriend who you thought was making a living has in fact several hundred millions stashed somewhere can be a shock. I nearly had a syncope when Albert told me Konrad was a billionaire. 

“María is the kind of lady who doesn't care much about money. I only hope Goran didn't come up with a prenup or something like this to her.” 

“Of course not! He's a gentleman and there are other ways to protect your equity besides a sordid contract.” 

“So?” 

“The lady began to investigate Goran on her own and maybe there's a little mention of his name in a UN's investigation regarding a certain matter in Krajina. Or maybe it was Amnesty International.” 

“Something related to his brother?” I asked and I really didn't want to hear the answer. Goran wasn't a saint in the war. In fact, he was quite enthusiastic about “cleaning his land”. 

“No, from before.” 

“Very bad?” 

“Took me several millions to get his name cleared.” Konrad seemed upset at my questioning. “It's over since 1995. She was even going to one of those human rights associations to learn more about it! As if the word of a Bosnian could have any value at all.”  

Well, finding out that your fiancé is a war criminal may destroy your relationship, especially if the groom to be forgets to tell about it. I can imagine Goran's reaction if he was confronted with that. Besides, the ones who killed his brother were Croats, not Bosnians, but for some dark reason all our Serbs hate Bosnians and Muslims more than anything in the world.

“She called him a murderer and many other things women like to say without thinking. Goran was caught in the middle of a civil war and both sides did many things to each other, like for example the Muslims bringing their Arab friends to play along or double crossing the Croats or the Serbs.”

“Did Goran try to explain it?” 

“He did, but she kicked him out of her house and life saying that her former boyfriend was killed by people like Goran. As if you could compare a second-rate filthy Mexican gangster with him!”

“That's why blondie came to the peace conference,” I mused. With all his money, Goran can find a dinner-replacement lady in no time. 

“Yeah, the neurosurgeon. She drives me nervous.” 

“She's a physician, not a shrink.” I explained to him again. Blondie looks great and has brains too. Terrifying combination for any man who isn't nominated for the Nobel prize. “Should I speak with María? I could bring Kurt along and charm her heart.” 

“Goran already tried that. She nearly hit him with a porcelain cup. She refuses to see him and he's getting more and more depressed. You know how difficult is for him to make any kind of personal contact with any person and now happens this.” 

“On top, these hippies from the Human Rights crap are getting more and more interested on him. One of these days, they will be marching over his house. We'll have to solve that problem too. Women only cause trouble.” 

“I'll visit Goran tomorrow and see if I can speak with her. She likes me.” 

“I also thought the same and... Let's forget about it.” Konrad said. 

“Konrad, with the sole exception of Tita, Carolina and your aunt, ladies dislike you almost instantly. Ah, Monika likes you too and she sort of adopted you years ago. Coco van Breda can't stand the sight of you and that's why she never wanted to come for lunch here.” 

“Women don't dislike me. It's just they can't stand the idea of a man not yielding to their whims. Sensible ladies like Elisabetta simply adore me.” 

“Konrad, you treat women horribly, like trash. I've seen it. You're only nice when you're after something. Normally, you leave them to me.”

“Because they melt under you. For some reason, they're unable to see my own charms.”

“Maybe it is because you show them none?” Truth to be told. 

“Since I'm not after any of those creatures, it shouldn't matter really. In fact, that makes your job easier.” He made me laugh with his remark. He has the thorns of a hedgehog but if you look carefully, hedgehogs have the prettiest dark eyes you can find in the animal kingdom. 

I think we spoke for a bit longer about nothing and then fell asleep. 

Dreams are a tricky thing. Maybe they twist your reality or show it under another light. The good thing about them is that you forget them in the morning and continue with your own sane reality. We're blessed with this sweet oblivion as all monsters fade away with the first lights. 

Tonight was not the case because this morning I woke cranky and disgusted at myself. 

I think I was happily sleeping when everything changed and I found myself again in the bedroom in Khanty Mansiysk feeling very poorly because I had pneumonia. True, in the first days when I was there, I got a very bad lung infection that was ruled out as pneumonia by Dr. Sverlov. It could had been one of those hospital bugs too because I ran a very high fever and antibiotics did nothing to me. I remember Sverdloff was very worried and fed me with all what he could find. 

In the dream, I felt again as if I was once more again in my sickbed with Constantin sitting next to me, caressing my forehead and speaking softly to me. I couldn't discern the words he was telling me, but I felt secured and loved with him no matter if I could feel again that hot oppressive feeling in my chest again. Nevertheless, it felt good to have him around. 

I remember that during those first days, when I was so sick, we reached some sort of entente and in a way, he became again the Constantin I met in Paris. When my health began to improve, Constantin would spend the day talking to me or telling me about things we could do and he gave me a reason to fight the disease back. 

Not all times were bad. That's true and I hate to admit it. 

Constantin would have been a kindred soul if he weren't such a psychopath. I mean, nobody, not even Konrad knew me so well as he and knew exactly what I needed. He would talk to me in a way no one ever did and challenge me with new ideas or concepts. Konrad is a solid rock; with Constantin, you never know what the morning will bring. 

Suddenly, everything changed and I wasn't any more in my bedroom but in that small cabin aboard the cruise we took to Tobolsk (if I remember the name well) during my first summer, but everything was blurred because the things mixed with that ship we took down the Ob river. I was looking through the window at those wooden houses with domes (or maybe they were churches) when I felt the heat of his body behind me. His hands travelled across my chest as he hugged me and kissed me or better munched my shoulder feverishly. I didn't turn around and let him do me and I was aroused in no time.  

If I must be honest to myself, that wasn't a rape but a successful seduction and I'm crazier than anyone ever thought. I don't need a pill but a full box of them. Constantin undressed me and I moaned when he penetrated me and fucked me vigorously, making me reach my own climax like a wild animal as he spoke to me in Russian. 

I woke up with a painful erection with my husband sleeping next to me. 

I'm nuts and a certified piece of shit.

What terrifies me more is that if it hadn't been by the fact that I met Konrad first, I would be most certainly still fucking with Constantin and fuck with the consequences. Deep inside me, I know for certain that if he had had some guts and spoken to me clearly, I would have fallen for him. It would have been a rocky relationship but in a way, we were perfect for each other. 

Fucking Fefo is right, but I don't want to see it. 

If so, what would I do? Divorce Konrad and run after that crazy psycho? I'm not that mad. 

I'm a mess. I'd better go back to work and release all this dark energy into a canvass. 

Konrad doesn't deserve to get all this shit from me.