‘Yes,’ Teddy said, nodding her head. ‘Yes, yes, I see what you mean.’ But she could not help thinking how different Princess Irina Troubetzkoy’s life would have been if the Russian Revolution had not happened. Her mother, the Princess Natalie, had been born a Romanov and was the cousin of Tsar Nicholas, and Irina would have led an existence of ease and comfort and privilege at the Russian court. She certainly would not have been scrabbling around in the ruins of Berlin, salvaging bricks and living in a hole in the ground.
The princess scrambled to her feet, stared down at Teddy who had remained kneeling in the rubble, and beckoned. ‘Come!’ she cried, and moving to the crater she stepped over the edge and disappeared from view.
Teddy stifled a cry, jumped up and ran after her, looked into the crater with trepidation, and saw that there was a steep flight of stone steps leading to the bottom. The steps were half-shattered, and she realised that they had been badly damaged by bombs. The princess was carefully manoeuvring her way down them.
Taking a deep breath, Teddy followed her.
‘These steps used to lead from the kitchen to the cellars in my stepfather’s house when it was standing,’ Irina informed her. ‘And as you can see they’re all that’s left of the Herr Baron’s mansion now, except for my little home, of course, which is through the door straight ahead.’
THIRTY-FIVE
The princess pulled an iron key out of her coat pocket and opened the heavy wood door. ‘Wait here for a moment, please Teddy, whilst I light the oil lamps,’ she said, and stepped inside.
A moment later the princess was calling, ‘Come in, come in,’ and Teddy entered.
She found herself standing in a little cellar.
This was illuminated by the lamps which had just been lit by Irina, which flickered brightly in the murky light of the interior. Teddy blinked several times, adjusting her eyes, and then looked around, filled with curiosity.
The ugly cellar was furnished sparsely. An ancient threadbare sofa with sagging springs was set against the back wall, flanked on either side by small, dark wood tables on which the oil lamps stood, and a couple of armchairs faced the sofa. In the centre of this grouping was a large wooden packing crate with a lace doily on top of it, and apparently this served as a coffee table. Against another wall rested an old-fashioned sideboard which had seen better days; on its top were a pile of books, a fat white candle in a carved wooden candlestick, and some chipped, white china cups and saucers.
It seemed to Teddy that the princess had tried to give the cellar some warmth and cosiness, a few homely touches. A worn Oriental rug covered the concrete floor, several stained and crumpled red-velvet cushions dressed up the dark-blue brocade sofa, and a faded plaid blanket was thrown over the back of one of the armchairs. On the packing crate stood a bedraggled little bunch of artificial flowers in a jamjar. There was something pathetically touching about these grubby imitations of the real thing, and Teddy’s eyes lingered, and for a reason she could not explain a lump came into her throat as she looked at them.
The princess had been keenly observing Teddy, and moving forward into the centre of the cellar, she said swiftly, in a brisk voice, ‘It’s not much, I know, but it’s better than what most Berliners have these days. Many of them are walking around carrying their possessions in paper bags, and camping out in the ruins, the best way they can. I am lucky. This place is dry, and, most importantly, it’s safe. And I soon get it warm with the paraffin stove. Are you cold, Teddy? I will light the stove, if you are.’
‘No, no!’ Teddy exclaimed. ‘I don’t want you to waste your precious fuel on me. I’ll keep my overcoat on.’
‘So will I,’ the princess said, ‘such as it is.’ She chuckled, glanced down at the shabby, oversized man’s coat that was far too big for her, pulled it around her tightly, almost possessively, and added, ‘This belonged to my stepfather, and I look dreadful in it, but it is warm.’ Gesturing to a chair, she hurried on, ‘Now, Teddy, please do sit down. I would like to offer you some sort of refreshments, however I don’t really have much. Still, let me see what I can find.’
‘Thank you, but I don’t want anything, Princess Irina, really I don’t, I’m fine,’ Teddy assured her, and sat down in one of the chairs, took off her woollen gloves and stuffed them in her pocket, unwrapped her long tartan scarf, let it dangle loosely around her neck.
The princess took a seat on the sofa, opposite Teddy, and airily waved one hand around the cellar. ‘This was a storage room, a vault really. The baron used it for silver, porcelain, and household valuables of that sort,’ she explained. ‘Through there—’ she motioned to the door near the sideboard ‘—is the wine cellar, although there’s no wine in it anymore. The bottles were smashed in the raids, and the wine cave is now… my bedroom!’
Teddy nodded, eyeing everything with interest, and then asked, ‘Did you manage to salvage this furniture from the wreckage of the mansion?’
‘Oh no, there wasn’t much left of the house, or its contents, not after the Allies had bombed us eighty-two times in as many days. These sorry pieces were already down here. My stepfather had turned the two storage cellars into air-raid shelters for us, and the household staff, in 1940. So you see, my little abode was ready and waiting for me after the house was hit the last time. That was when it was completely demolished.’
‘The baron… Princess Natalie…’ Teddy stopped, suddenly wondering if she ought to continue. Perhaps the princess’s mother and stepfather had been killed; she had no wish to upset her.
Immediately recognising Teddy’s dilemma, Irina said hastily, ‘It’s all right, they are perfectly well, thank goodness. My mother and stepfather are living in the gardener’s cottage on one of the baron’s estates near Baden-Baden in the Black Forest. Naturally, the castle itself is closed up for the time being, it’s too difficult for Helmut to run it without staff, fuel and other supplies.’
‘I’m glad to hear they’re both in good health, and were not hurt.’ Teddy glanced around the dank, gloomy cellar, and suggested quietly, ‘Wouldn’t you be better off living in the country with them, Princess Irina?’
‘Not at all!’ Irina shook her head vehemently, and frowned at the mere idea of this. Unexpectedly, a peal of laughter broke free, and she said, through her chuckles, ‘They are an odd couple, the Russian princess and the Prussian baron. They are like… a couple of love birds, yes, I do believe that is the best way to describe them. And they much prefer to be on their own, I am quite certain of this. Besides, the cottage is small, and, as they say, three’s a crowd.’ Irina sat back, crossed her long legs, thought to add, ‘I like being in Berlin, in the centre of things, difficult though living here is these days. And at least I’m not in the Russian Zone.’
‘Mrs Reynolds told me there’s still a lot of rape going on, that it’s not safe for women in the Red Sector.’
‘And especially a White Russian such as myself! Can you imagine how the Bolsheviks would treat me!’ Irina cried. ‘When they first captured the city in May, I was terrified. I hid in here for weeks, until the British, French and Americans came in to occupy their zones… Enough of this, I am safe now.’
Teddy looked thoughtful for a moment, before saying, ‘But things are not especially easy for you, Princess Irina, even though you do have a roof over your head. I know food is short and I would like to come tomorrow with some groceries, a few luxuries. I know Mrs Reynolds will gladly give them to me, she will want to help you, too, when she knows of your plight.’
‘That’s not necessary, but thank you anyway, Teddy, it was kind of you to offer. I do manage fairly well, and when I feel the need I occasionally make a purchase in the Tiergarten.’
‘The Tiergarten?’ Teddy repeated, sounding puzzled, giving the princess a quizzical look.
‘There is a very active black market in the park,’ Irina explained. ‘For a price, one can buy butter, coffee, tea, chocolate bars, cigarettes and toothpaste. Many things.’
‘Even so, I would like
to bring you some of those items. It’s no trouble, really it isn’t. I want to do something to help you. Please let me; she begged.
‘Very well, Teddy, and thank you.’ The princess inclined her head graciously and a pleased expression settled on her face. ‘That is very, very kind of you. But then one does have to rely on the kindness of friends in times of great difficulty such as these,’ she said, and smiled warmly.
Teddy returned her smile. ‘I have wonderful friends in London who helped me to come here to look for Herr and Frau Westheim. Do you have good friends, Princess? I mean in Berlin?’
‘One or two are still left. Unfortunately, and very sadly, most of my friends have not survived the war.’ Irina leaned her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes, and when she opened them they were dark with pain, and sudden tears glistened on her lashes.
Teddy could not miss the look of suffering on Irina’s face, now so pale and drawn in the lamplight, and her heart went out to her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘So very sorry, Princess Irina.’
‘My friends were murdered, tragically murdered—’ Irina Troubetzkoy’s voice started to tremble and she faltered, was unable to continue speaking. She began to weep silently. After a second or two, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of grubby rag, wiped her eyes with it.
‘Forgive me,’ she apologised, forcing a smile, but it was a weak one. ‘I didn’t mean to break down this way, but your kindness touched me, and when I thought of my poor friends—’ Irina cut herself off, closed her eyes once more, repeatedly sighing to herself, as if her sorrow was too much for her to bear.
Teddy sat watching the princess, waiting for her to recover her equilibrium, knowing there was not much she could do or say to help her assuage her grief. And for the second time that morning she could not help thinking what a hard and painful life this aristocratic Russian woman had led. Scrutinising her face in the lambent light, Teddy noted its fine structure, the good bones, the perfectly shaped mouth and chin, and the smooth, wide forehead, the symmetrical auburn brows above those startlingly blue eyes. There were webs of fine lines around her eyes and her mouth now, but she was still a beautiful woman. Teddy guessed she must be thirty-three or thereabouts, yet she looked older. No wonder, Teddy thought, after what she’s been through.
Suddenly the princess sat up straighter and threw Teddy a quick glance. ‘Kurt von Wittingen and I worked together in the resistance, and we had a good friend, Admiral Canaris… Wilhelm Canaris. It was the admiral who helped to get Ursula, Maxim and you out of Germany. Did you know that?’
‘Frau Westheim told me.’
‘Wilhelm Canaris is dead,’ Irina announced quietly. ‘He loathed and detested Hitler, and everything that that criminal stood for, and inevitably he paid for his beliefs with his life.’ She focused her attention on a distant corner of the cellar, momentarily lost in her own ruminations, and a few minutes elapsed before she carried on slowly, ‘The admiral certainly took breathtaking risks in order to help the resistance, to help us aid those victims of the Nazis whom we were so desperately trying to save—’ Irina broke off, left her sentence unfinished.
Teddy was watching her closely, and she saw an agonised look cross her face. She suddenly knew that the princess harboured some awful knowledge that she did not dare guess at, and she felt a shiver run through her. She held herself very still, waiting.
Rising jerkily, all of a sudden, Irina crossed to the sideboard, opened a drawer and took out a packet of cigarettes. Swinging to face Teddy, she asked, ‘Do you smoke? Would you like one of these?’
Teddy shook her head. ‘No, thank you, and please take this.’ Opening her bag, Teddy took out a packet of Lucky Strikes, and put them on the packing crate next to the jamjar of faded silk flowers. ‘I hadn’t realised you smoked, I would have given them to you before.’
‘My thanks, Teddy,’ Irina said, gratefully accepting the precious little gift. She walked back to the sofa, sat down again, lit one of the Lucky Strikes, and started to speak about Wilhelm Canaris. ‘The admiral was arrested last summer, the summer of 1944, and accused of treason against the Third Reich.’ There was a short pause as she puffed on her cigarette, and in a low voice she told Teddy, ‘He was hanged at Flossenburg concentration camp in April of this year, ironically just a short time before the Allies liberated the camp.’
‘How tragic that the Americans arrived too late to save him. It’s heartbreaking even to think about,’ Teddy said, and immediately fell silent, pondering on the sad demise of this courageous man.
The princess was also quiet for a few moments, drawing on her cigarette, lost in her thoughts, surrounded by a haze of smoke. Eventually she took a deep breath, and remarked in a precise and careful voice, wanting to give weight to her words, ‘I hope they are beginning to understand in England that there were some very brave men in Germany, men who fought Hitler and his henchmen with all their might and tried to stop them. Men of great honour and integrity who wanted to save others from being destroyed by that foul regime of evilness and tyranny, who tried very hard to overthrow Hitler and the Nazis, and who ultimately lost their lives in so doing.’
‘Yes, they do know now,’ Teddy assured her. ‘I’ve recently been reading things in the papers about the German resistance, and I also read about Admiral Canaris’s execution. The British papers called him a hero, Prinzessin.’
‘He was indeed.’
‘Maxim and I owe him our lives; Teddy said softly.
True, yes, you do. But other people were involved in helping you to escape. Do you remember the colonel who travelled in your compartment on the train from Berlin to Aachen?’
‘Colonel Oster,’ Teddy said. ‘Frau Westheim told me who he was, after we crossed the border into Belgium.’
‘He was on the train to keep an eye on you, to make sure all of you were safe, and that you got away. He, too, was a brave man. He was the admiral’s assistant in German Military Intelligence, close to him, and most especially so because of their mutual hatred of the Nazis.’
Irina stubbed out her cigarette, sat back, folding her hands in her lap. She stared down at them. The events of the past few years were forever fresh and vivid in her mind, could never be forgotten. Without looking up, she confided, ‘There was a plot to assassinate Hitler in 1944—imagine, just last year, yet it seems so long ago now, perhaps because so much has happened lately. It was called the July Twentieth Plot and it did not succeed, went horribly awry, unfortunately. Hitler was only wounded, not killed, as had been planned, even though Count Klaus von Stauffenberg placed the briefcase holding the bomb only twelve feet away from him. Despite his injuries, Hitler survived, and some of the plotters were captured immediately. Colonel von Stauffenberg was shot that same evening… at midnight in the courtyard of the War Ministry.’
The princess reached for another cigarette, and proceeded with her story: ‘The Gestapo thought Colonel Oster was involved, and he was arrested that month, held at Gestapo Headquarters in the Prinz Albrechtstrasse. We were sure he was being horribly tortured. In fact, we were quite positive they were all being tortured…’
‘Who were the others?’ Teddy asked in a whisper, hardly able to breathe.
‘Adam von Trott zu Solz, Gottfried Bismarck, Fritzi Schulenberg, many others. None of those men broke under torture, they did not give our names or implicate us. No, they did not give us away…’ Irina Troubetzkoy stared into Teddy’s eyes, and confessed, ‘I was deeply, deeply involved with the plotters, who were all my friends, but I was never arrested. They died protecting me, and other men and women as well.’
‘Oh, Princess Irina, how courageous of you! But you could easily have been killed yourself!’ Teddy cried, and then she remembered that Irina had always appeared intrepid to her, and had carried her fearlessness like a proud banner in the past. Ursula Westheim had called her an heroic woman.
Irina nodded. ‘Yes, I could have died,’ she agreed. ‘But I didn’t. I was left to mourn.’
&n
bsp; There was a little silence; the cellar was deathly quiet.
Teddy wanted to mention Prince Kurt von Wittingen, to ask about his fate, but before she could, Irina started to speak again, as if it was a great relief to unburden herself to someone.
She said, in the softest of tones, ‘So many of my friends were executed in the end, and some died most horribly. Adam von Trott was hung from a meat hook with piano wire, and died very slowly of strangulation, in Plotzensee Prison in August of last year. And, Teddy, can you believe that they actually took photographs and made films of the meat-hook deaths to show to Hitler. Sadists! Hans Oster was hanged in Flossenburg this past April, at the same time as Admiral Canaris. My heart bleeds for them all. I will never forget any of them. I think of each one every day, and I will, until the day I die.’
Teddy was so shocked, so profoundly affected by the things she had just heard, that she could not speak for a while, and when she did her voice was choked. ‘What a tragic, tragic waste. The world must be told about these horrendous deeds as they have been told about the camps. And it must never be allowed to happen again.’
‘No, it must not. None of it.’ Turning to look at Teddy, Irina took a deep breath, and said, ‘At least Hitler is dead. Although I can’t help wishing he hadn’t committed suicide in his bunker in April, that he could have been arrested by the Allies, and properly tried for his crimes against humanity, along with the other criminals. The four-power international tribunal begins in Nuremberg next month, and the whole world is watching. Justice must be done. It must be done, in the name of those millions who died, to ensure that they did not die in vain.’