Noblesse Oblige
Book Two
Indian Summer

By: Pete Bruno & Henry Hilliard
(© 2013 by the authors)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 24
The Baltic Exchange 

The motorcar took the boys into Königsberg along the valley of the Pregal River.  Arno and Oskar had successfully been left behind but in five days the two brothers would be joining them.  Friedrich was content with this compromise.  The other person left behind was Carlo as the boys’ needs would be relatively simple in this Baltic resort town and, besides; accommodation were hard to come by in the summer—the von Oettingen-Taxis name having had some influence in obtaining just two rooms.

“Will you be all right while we are gone, Carlo?” asked Stephen.

“Oh yes sir. Kaliszuk the stable master is teaching me to ride. He’s very good in the saddle, sir.”

In Königsberg Friedrich beamed with pride when he talked about his university.  “This city was the home of Immanuel Kant,” he said.  Martin and Stephen looked blankly.  “Well you know your great English philosopher David Hume…”  He was again appalled by their vacant expressions.  He thought for several minutes and then tried to explain, in simple terms and in a language that wasn’t his own, the dilemma about human understanding of our reason and the world around us.  Surprisingly it was Martin who took the most interest and began by asking a few elementary questions that Friedrich fielded and then asked what this man Kant’s contribution had been.  Friedrich tried to explain.

“Those sceptics sound a silly lot, Friedrich.  Could you invite this Kant to tea?”

Friedrich explained that he’d been dead for more than a century and Martin went red.  “And I could study this epistemology at Oxford?”

“I should think so, cousin, although one of the best new philosophers is at Cambridge.  His name is Russell. He’s Lord Amberley’s son.”

“Oh yes my father knew the family—Liberals from Wales.  Well, at least he’s still living.  I say Derbs, do you think I should try for Cambridge instead of Oxford.  Fancy having lectures in philosophy!”

“You might make a distinct contribution, Mala.”

“Do you think so Derbs?  Do I need to know anything about it before I start, Friedrich?”

“Not really.  It might help if your mind’s a blank,” said Friedrich

“Oh it is that.”

“And just don’t expect to make much progress.  It’s at snail’s pace and quite hard.”

“Eugen is at university too?” asked Stephen.

“He was until his military service.  I think he wants to join the regiment permanently.  It was my father who got him into the cavalry, which was not easy.  He’s not a Junker, you see, and his father is Polish.  His mother is from an old Lithuanian family.  They don’t usually take people like that.  My father knows he is my friend; just not that he is my lover.

“I have already been called up and obtained deferment until I finished the year.  I start in the same regiment at the end of summer so I will not be returning to University either.  I will miss it, but then I can be with my Eugen.”

At the mention of his name, Eugen appeared on the platform and marched smartly along in his handsome uniform and saluted politely, giving a little bow to each of them.  It was clear to see that Friedrich was bursting to kiss his handsome Leutnant but restrained himself in front of the admiring crowd.

The little local train came and they boarded for the 20-mile ride to the coastal town of Cranz. The train was crowded with holidaymakers like themselves and Friedrich and Eugen conducted a low and hurried conversation.  At last Friedrich spoke to Martin and Stephen in English.  “I have booked two rooms; one for Herr von Oettingen-Taxis and his brother—that’s you, Martin as we look like brothers if you don’t speak. The other is for our friend Herr Knight-Poole from England.  Eugen cannot be seen booking into the same hotel, especially in his regimental uniform, so he will arrive later as Herr Knight-Poole’s friend and ask for his room.”  He smiled and Eugen nodded and said, “Ja.”

Cranz was on the other side of the Sambian Peninsula from Königsberg and was adjacent to both the Baltic Sea and a vast lagoon, the Kurisches Haff, which was separated from the sea by a spit of sand a hundred miles long.  The small town itself was lively with hotels and boarding houses.  There was a fanciful building on the foreshore that was pointed out as being the sea baths.  Then there was a promenade thick with Prussian families and some fine villas belonging to Junker families like Friedrich’s.  “The Kaiser himself has come here for the bathing,” Friedrich informed them.

The hotel was a pleasant timber building in the vernacular style—or possibly in the vernacular style of a chalet in Switzerland—it was hard to tell.   Lt Eugen Lwow waited in a café until the boys were booked in—Friedrich’s ‘brother’ being perhaps thought a mute or a simpleton.

The boys hurried back to Eugen and joined him drinking beer.  “What were you studying at University, Eugen?” asked Martin, through Friedrich.

“He was studying to be an Aktuar —an ‘actuary’ in English?”  The boys nodded thinking that Eugen must be quite bright as well as a prolific drinker as he started on his third enormous glass.  “My Eugen can hold his beer and it doesn’t stop him being a good lover,” said Friedrich proudly and translated the compliment for Eugen who said: “Ja!”

They walked along the promenade and Stephen was disappointed to see that the bathers were all dressed modestly.  Friedrich saw the look of disappointment and said: “Not here Stephen, but the beach on the Haff is for free-bathing.   We will go there on bicycles.”

They ate a lunch of sprats, bread and pickles washed down with more beer.

“Eugen and I are going to ‘rest’ in our room this afternoon.  You should ‘rest’ too cousin Martin, unless you and Stephen would like to watch us?  Would that be good Eugen?” he asked in German.

Eugen replied: “Ja.”

“No thank you, Friedrich.  Stephen and I are anxious to bathe aren’t we Stephen?”

Stephen said: “Ja.”

In the end they did rest for an hour, as it was quite warm.  “Derby, what do you make of Eugen?” said Martin as they lay together on the bed.

“Well he is big and handsome.  He must be clever, but it’s hard to tell.  Friedrich seems besotted with him and I can understand why.”

“Would you have liked to watch them fuck?”

“Maybe, as long as Eugen wasn’t going to make him drink his piss or something. But I think it’s best that they have some time alone as they will be parted all too soon.”

“Derbs, what about you and me?  When I go back to school I’ll still have The Plunger; but what about when you’re up in London?  I’m frightened you’ll find somebody—somebody like Chris—and it might be over between us.  I know it’s silly, but now I’ve said it: I’m frightened you might leave me.  If you do leave me, can I come too?”

“Well Mala.  I don’t know what to say except that you can come too.  I don’t know who I might meet—maybe Elsie from The Feathers will come to town and get a job with Count Osmochescu in Lyon’s Corner House.  I can’t help that, but I promise I will be faithful to you.”

“Except in emergencies?”

“Well, yes, in emergencies naturally, but I won’t fall in love with anyone else and I’ll tell you about any emergencies.  I will never lie to you, Mala.  I love you too much for that.” Martin wasn’t sure about how much was ‘too much’ (a philosophical question, perhaps, he mused) but he did know that he’d be capable of telling any sort of lie if it meant keeping his Derby.

“What about you, Mala, you’ll be away in Cambridge and you might meet a handsome don or a prince from India.  What can you tell me?”

“It’s hard, isn’t it Derbs?  You can’t predict what will happen.  I can’t imagine loving anyone but you, but if I’m a philosopher I will have to entertain the possible, but I won’t cheat on you.  I love you too much too.”

“Well, we can’t say much more than that can we?  There is only one answer to our questions.” He kissed Martin on the lips.  “Come on, help me put on my costume and let’s go and bathe.”

Martin and Stephen turned the heads of the staid Germans as they walked along the white sands.  The sea was cool but they splashed about and Stephen swam powerfully backwards and forwards and came up gasping, with his beautiful black locks plastered over his left eye and his body glistening with foam.

They retired to one of the striped canvas beach tents that lined the sand and an attendant came and took their orders for food and drink.  Through the canvas flap they watched the people passing two and fro against the background of sea and sky.  It was a curious perspective on the world—rather like the aperture of a camera.  Stephen arose from his deckchair and untied the flaps and let them close until there was just an inch or two of the outside world visible, slightly more when the breeze caught the canvas.  He walked back to Martin’s chair and knelt down between his legs and gently kissed the bulge in his striped caleçons. “Derbs, someone might see.”  Stephen did not answer but kept gently kissing and rubbing the damp cloth with his lips.  “Do you want me to take them off?”

“No, just sit like that.”

Stephen continued to gently kiss, sometimes just brushing his lips or nose across the fabric, which was now distended by Martin’s aching cock.  The feather-light kisses and the occasional rubbing with Stephen’s cheek had Martin moaning. “You’d better stop Derby, I’m close,” said Martin softly, knowing it was futile.  The gentle little kisses continued relentlessly and suddenly Martin’s legs stiffened and Stephen felt Martin’s warm seed seeping through the material.  He rubbed his lips and new moustache on the sweet, sodden cloth as Martin exhaled.  “Oh that was beautiful, Derby!  You are a wonderful lover.”

“Thank you, Mala,” said Stephen grinning for the first time.  “I do spend a lot of time thinking of new ways to pleasure you.  I’ll keep other good ideas as a surprise, shall I?”

Stephen took mischievous delight in seeing how Martin made it back to the hotel in his awkward condition, but he did and Stephen was just licking he residue off with his tongue when Friedrich and Eugen arrived.

“We have rested and Eugen did me twice,” said Friedrich and he started to undo his trousers until he was stopped by Martin.

“You don’t have to show us Friedrich.”

“But my cousin, why should I not show you?” said Friedrich, quite hurt.  “There is nothing to be ashamed of.  I want to show you how my Eugen loves me.”

Stephen and Martin looked at each other and giggled but let Friedrich drop his trousers.  He bent over and parted his cheeks as he had done before.  Eugen turned him around with proprietary pride.

“Küssen?” asked Eugen.

Stephen shook his head and they both looked hurt.  Friedrich pulled up his trousers and said:  “We will dine and drink beer tonight.  Eugen will wear his dress uniform and I will feel so proud walking with him.”  Stephen and Martin smiled and replied that would be good.

They bathed and changed.  Martin would have like to have washed Stephen but the bathroom was by the stairs and shared by the whole floor.  They both put on smart suits so as not to disgrace Eugen’s uniform and they carried their jaunty Malacca sticks.

Eugen’s dress uniform was splendid, but ill-suited to a holiday resort.  It was dark blue with crimson piping and lots of gilt on the crimson cuffs and the high collar that must have cut his neck terribly.  The spiked helmet blossomed into a horsehair fountain and the sword presented problems sitting down.  The trousers were so tight that Stephen begged to try them on in privacy while Martin longed to try the helmet.  For once Stephen was not the sole object of attention in the restaurant.

Eugen warned that he was not allowed to get drunk in uniform and so they made sure they had some bottles to take back to their rooms. The local specialty was smoked flounder, which was served with potato salad.  There was also eel with dill-cream sauce and cabbage pudding.  It all went well with beer.  Martin noticed how respectful and attentive the German people were to Eugen in his uniform. He could not imagine that attitude at home.

“Tomorrow we will hire some bicycles and go to the free beach,” said Friedrich. I would like to take you dancing, but Eugen must not be see with ‘tarts’—apart from me” he said, laughing.  He translated this for Eugen who said, “Ja,” and laughed too.

“Wouldn’t The Plunger love Eugen’s uniform, Derbs?” said Martin suddenly.  He wondered what Archie was doing.  He was, in many ways, a very private and self-contained person and he had his painting.  “I say Derbs, we mustn’t forget Plunger’s exhibition when we’re back in England.”

Friedrich was busy telling a joke to Eugen about how his Oma was walking through the hall when she slipped on a rug and fell on her Arsch.  He was doubled up with laughter and Eugen was guffawing causing his sword to scrape on the tiled floor.  Martin and Stephen just looked at each other.  Friedrich turned to them: “But she was walking along and she fell down. Boom!” cried Friedrich, tears running down his face.

They took the beer back to Friedrich’s room and Martin begged to put on Eugen’s helmet, which he did, risking that he might insult his regiment in the parody. Stephen wanted to try on the trousers and boots and soon both lads had their trousers off. They were tight and stretchy and it was a struggle to get them on. They were a little short on Stephen who was slightly taller than Eugen and much longer in the leg. The waist was a little looser because Eugen’s body was thicker than Stephen’s whose musculature was more defined than the solid Eugen.  The shiny boots were magnificent and Stephen stood with his legs apart and let Eugen feel his cock beneath the tight fabric.

“He looks very fine, cousin, but not as handsome as my Eugen.”

He translated this for Eugen who grinned and said; “Ja”.  Martin disagreed but kept a polite silence under his plumed hat.  Eugen put his jacket over Stephen’s bare chest. It would not button so was left open. Martin had no doubt in his mind who was the more striking and handed over the hat to complete the picture.

The uniform was carefully removed with Eugen explaining how it had to be stored and maintained.  The two boys stood there naked.  It was obvious to all what came next.  Martin and Friedrich needed little encouragement to remove their clothes too.  Eugen positioned them on the bed.  “Zwillinge” said Eugen and the cousins indeed looked like ‘twins’ and were encouraged to kiss until their cocks became hard.

Stephen and Eugen stood with their arms about each other’s shoulders and watched the boys writhing on the bed.  There was a conversation in Polish and German and at last Friedrich looked up and said:  “Eugen wants to fuck Martin and he wants you to fuck me, Stephen.”

Stephen was prepared for this.  “Well I’d like to watch you and Martin pleasure each other.  I’d fuck Eugen except that I would be frightened of hurting him.  He may not be able to report for duty when he returns to his regiment.”

This piece of news was translated for Eugen while Stephen managed to wink, unseen, at Martin.

“Eugen says that he is tough and feels no pain and certainly not from any Englischer Schwanz.”

“No, he is my friend and I couldn’t do it.”  There was more hurried conversation and Eugen was looking quite angry.

“Eugen insists that you fuck him Stephen.  He wants to watch Martin and me and the honour of his regiment is at stake.”

The military strategy had worked and it was only when Stephen was entering his hairy buttocks that Eugen suspected British perfidy, but by then it was too late. Stephen had insisted on using a new cream that he had obtained in Paris.  Such refinements were unknown to Eugen.  “He doesn’t use anything except spit, Stephen; He says if I love him I will take the pain.”

“Doesn’t he care how you feel, Friedrich?”

“His love comes in such a rush perhaps he doesn’t have time to.  He kisses me afterwards, sometimes.”

Clearly Eugen was unused to being fucked but would now be a convert to the cream.  There were tears in his eyes and some grunts, but the East Prussian Landwehr were not disgraced and Stephen found that he was actually enjoying fucking the big slab of meat.  Eugen certainly had a look of concentration on his face and the sweat was beading on his forehead.  Martin and Friedrich had their blonde bodies intertwined next to them and Stephen compared them: Martin was tanned from his time in France, but otherwise their porcelain skin looked the same.  Martin’s hair was lighter, with Friedrich’s tending to light brown. Martin’s buttocks, which Friedrich was now kissing, were more developed- Friedrich’s being flat.  Friedrich was slightly taller and more mature in body, but Martin’s muscles in his arms and shoulders were more defined from his lacrosse.

Stephen now had Eugen under his power and turned him over and fucked him like a bitch.  He could tell that Eugen was enjoying it but pride was preventing too much of a display.  This could be awkward afterwards thought Stephen and he drove in with more forceful thrusts.  We have to spend several more days together and I can’t humiliate him—especially in front of Friedrich.  He was in deep and paused.  He reached underneath and stroked Eugen’s cock, now slimy with juices.

“Friedrich, tell Eugen that I desperately need him to fuck me.  Tell him I want his big cock”  This plea was rendered into Polish and Stephen pulled out slowly and turned the ragged Eugen over and kissed him while stroking his cock.  Eugan’s eyes lit up and Stephen applied some cream to them both.  He climbed on top of Eugen and lowered himself, inventing German words he hoped would convey pain and pleasure.  Eugen grabbed him by the hips and made half a dozen thrusts and spilled inside Stephen.

“Wunderbar!” exclaimed Stephen with some theatricality.

Eugen broke into a smile. “Ja” he said.

Eugen and Stephen found that Martin and Friedrich had spilled messily and it required both their tongues to clean them up. “This is nice,” said Stephen looking up at Eugen who was licking Martin’s navel.

“Ja” replied Eugen.

They drank the bottled beer, Eugen and Friedrich in their underwear.  “Stephen,” said Friedrich, “Eugen wants to sleep with you tonight; I will sleep with Martin. Do you mind, Martin?”

“No I’m used to it,” said Martin, with a laugh.

“Tell Eugen if he wants to sleep with me,” said Stephen with authority, “there is to be no underwear and no wasserlassen.”

*****

When Friedrich and Martin opened the door the next morning they were greeted by the sight of the two handsome lads asleep in the bed that was in some disarray.  Stephen, with his hair fallen over his left eye, had his arm around Eugen and Eugen’s nose was pressed into his chest.  They stood there for some minutes.  “Are you getting hard cousin?” asked Friedrich.  Martin nodded and rubbed his cock through his trousers.  They jumped onto the bed and woke their lovers with kisses.  There were shouts and complaints.  In a conversation in Polish and German Stephen made out the word schnarchen.

“I do not snore!” he protested.

Friedrich said: “He says you snore like sawing wood and you were hard all night.” Stephen blushed and Friedrich uncovered him to prove it was true.

“Hurry, we are to go to the beach.”

‘No, look it’s raining; let’s go later said Stephen.  I want to stay here with my friend,” he said, putting his arm around Eugen and kissing him.  The visitors shrugged and took their clothes off and got into the stained and sodden bed and began to work on their lovers’ cocks.

They did get to the free beach by lunchtime when the rainstorm had cleared.  It was an interesting ride over the sand spit—the Kurische Nehrung—with its flocks of sea birds, tussock grass and oak forests.  In the dunes were shacks and weekend houses with curious carved barge ends.  The free beach was in an area that had been reafforested by the Prussian government.  There was a little café in a clearing where the tourists (fully dressed) enjoyed coffee and cake.

The boys parked their hired cycles and removed their clothes in the small pavilion, fearing a rebuke from the officious Bademeister who made sure everyone was naked and had towels to sit on.

Unlike in the south of France, this beach was much more organised.  There were precise rows of deckchairs and towels lined up in military style.  The best seats the German families had reserved with towels.

People were behaving very properly under the gaze of the Bademeister and staring was strictly frowned on.  The Germans felt no sense of shame at their nakedness and young and old, attractive and ugly, men and women were all equal in their state of nature.  Martin was dreading staring and even more so getting an erection.  Even more than this he was worried about Stephen getting an erection which usually only required the wind to blow.  He sneaked a sideways glance:  there was his beautiful brown cock lying at peace over his left thigh.  How did he manage it?

The sun was pleasant, but soon the boys became bored just sitting.  Following Eugen, they walked sedately through the chairs and towels until they reached the unpopulated littoral and then charged into the sea whooping like Indians.  The water was clear and not cold. It was almost fresh.  They swam, stood on one another’s shoulders and tried to dunk each other.  Hoping they were too far from the Bademeister, Friedrich tried to grab their cocks under the water and was sat on for his impudence.

On the hard sand Eugen led them in exercises—some of them ones he was made to do in the army.  There was a competition for push-ups between Eugen and Stephen.  Eugen was very good and did an enormous number; Stephen kept up with him however.  Martin wanted to laugh because his long cock dangled in the sand but a small crowd had gathered so he kept an earnest German expression on his face as he watched the contest.  At last Eugen collapsed and Stephen pushed ahead doing several more before collapsing too.  They got up and fell into each other’s arms, panting.  Stephen explained he was a boxer and had been training but asked Eugen if he would devise a program of exercises that they could all do.  “Could you lead us through the army exercises in the morning?” he asked through Friedrich.

“Ja,” replied Eugen, smiling.

The boys were feeling hungry, so they dressed again and wheeled their bicycles up to the café, which was in a quaint timber chalet adorned with flower boxes.  To one side was a picturesque beer garden surrounded by a picket fence.  Pretty waitresses in Dirndls were busy bringing out sumptuous, sticky cakes to families in their Sunday best.  Others carried foaming steins of beer to fat burghers who wiped the froth from their moustaches.  There were children and dogs running about and much bright chatter.  A brass band started up with a selection from Die Fledermaus and the sense of gaiety was heightened.

Eugen drank beer while the other three ordered coffee and Königsberger marzipan cakes.  They chatted about university life and Eugen spoke wistfully about the life in his barracks and what a splendid group of comrades he had in the East Prussian Landwehr.   Next they turned their attention to the concert they were to attend that night.  When that topic was exhausted they vied with each other in telling silly jokes, especially about farting and Friedrich had to desperately translate for Eugen who sometimes didn’t understand but laughed good-naturedly all the same. 

The band came to the end of Preussens Gloria and struck up the Deutschlandlied. One by one the patrons put down their steins, cups and teaspoons and stood to attention and sang.  Martin and Stephen also rose to join Friedrich who was standing next to the ramrod straight Eugen.  Stephen enjoyed Haydn’s slow and sonorous hymn, which he thought both stirring and plaintive at once.  When they sat down he looked at Martin.

“Let’s go Derby, I feel suddenly terribly cold.”

*****

The evening entertainment was to be in a Bierhaus quaintly named Bayern Haus. “Why would people go to such a place in North Germany, Friedrich?” asked Martin.  Perhaps you don’t notice, cousin, but there are many Bavarians here making holiday; they live a long way from the sea, but they are homesick after just a fortnight!  It will be fun also.  The Bavarians are very amusing; do you not think they sound funny?

“I can’t really tell,’ said Martin.

Friedrich said something in German with a singsong voice.  “That is how they talk, cousin,” he said smiling at himself.  Martin imagined it must be something like the English spoken in Lancashire, Wales or Scotland, always seeming to lend itself to comedy.

“It is also the birthday of the King of Bavaria, so it is a special celebration.”

Eugen walked into the room dressed in a suit.

“Oh please, Eugen, wear your dress uniform,” pleaded Friedrich in German.

There was a discussion with Eugen thinking that it would be inappropriate to be seen in Bayern Haus wearing it.  Friedrich countered with it being the birthday of His Majesty and Eugen was thus persuaded to everyone’s delight and went back to change.

Bayern Haus was in a building on the promenade next to the Women’s Baths that looked to Martin like a cuckoo clock.  They sat at long tables on benches and, as in the afternoon, very pretty girls wearing dirndls, their blonde plaits tied with ribbons, served the beer.   It all looked like a picture from a children’s book, thought Martin.

There were some other soldiers there, but none in the magnificent uniform of Eugen’s regiment and he kept a stiff posture and drank his beer with some dignity.  Then another soldier appeared in the same uniform.  With him was a pretty girl.  He marched up to Eugen and greeted him.  Eugen looked surprised and jumped to his feet and smartly saluted and clicked his heels.  Elaborate introductions were made with much bowing, heel clicking and hand kissing.  His name was Hauptmann Vianden and the girl was his fiancée, Frl. von Billung.  They were in Cranz on holiday with Frl. von Billung’s family. 

Friedrich explained that Hauptmann Vianden was Eugen’s commander and someone whom Eugen admired greatly for his bravery and soldierly qualities.  Both Hauptmann Vianden and Frl. von Billung were pleased to meet Friedrich and his English visitors.  They were asked to join the party and the couple were quite charming and set to work practicing their English.  Thus the party became more relaxed as the beer and wine flowed and Martin noticed that Stephen was being particularly charming to Frl. von Billung and was turning on his magnificent smile, his blue eyes flashing beneath his black hair.

The waitresses took their orders in the fashion of a railway dining car—getting the customers to fill out little chits.  It was efficient if nothing else.  The menu greatly featured meat and sausages.  Martin chose the liver dumplings and Schweinebauch mit Apfelfüllung which turned out to be, unsurprisingly, pork with apple stuffing.  When the food arrived the conversation stopped and the Germans concentrated on their food—even Frl. von Billung displaying a healthy appetite.

A band with accordions and violins appeared on the low stage.   All of a sudden everyone from the long tables rose—pulling the reluctant to their feet—and became engaged in a mad dance clockwise, then anticlockwise, around the table while holding hands.  It was alarming at first and then funny.  Martin hoped he wasn’t holding Frl. von Billung’s hand too firmly, but he needed to prevent himself from falling.  Frl. von Billung was hoping she was holding Herr Knight-Poole’s hand firmly enough, but without distressing her fiancé.

Exhausted they all sat down and more drinks were called for.  The proprietor got up and called for a toast to His Majesty King Otto and then there were toasts to the Regent, Prince Luitipold, and then the entire Wittelsbach family.

Next came the comic singers—an older man dressed as a young student and a young girl, his sweetheart.  From what Martin could make out the song concerned their courting while skating and involved falling down on their bottoms on the cold ice.  The crowd roared with laughter and even the Germans in his own party were wiping the tears from their eyes.

“Sehr komisch!” Eugen managed to say to Martin.

Next a young man appeared and sang lieder in a light tenor voice.  The crowd applauded.  His second song was slow and beautiful and the crowd was hushed. “It’s Schubert,” whispered Friedrich to Martin.   As the song unfolded it appeared to be about a young man talking to a river about the joys of life, but the river replied that the young man was already dead and had drowned himself out of despair.  When the singer came to an end the crowd was silent and quite a few people were openly weeping.

There was a change of pace when folk dancers came on in Lederhosen and did a snappy routine that involved much slapping their chests and thighs and then the leather covered bottoms of themselves and their partner.  The crowd roared with delight.

All of a sudden Friedrich and Martin were plucked from the table and slanderously introduced to the crowd as twin brothers.  Without choice they were propelled behind a curtain and reappeared a few minutes later in lederhosen to the delight of the crowd, especially to Stephen who thought Martin looked like an infant in the tiny shorts with the braces.  He was red with shame.  They were made to join in a silly dance and Martin did creditably, but was still highly embarrassed Stephen maliciously noted.

The next shock was when, again, with little ceremony, Stephen himself and Frl. von Billung were also plucked from their table and taken behind the curtain. There were giggles from the crowd.  They too emerged in costume and Stephen was somehow squeezed into Lederhosen with his muscular thighs erupting from the leather shorts and his big cock threatening to. Frl. von Billung was more modestly garbed still in her own clothes but with the addition of an embroidered blouse over the top and a blonde wig with plaits.  They too were instructed in a silly dance and then the four unwilling volunteers danced together with much slapping of heels and bottoms to the delight of the crowd.

Stephen looked out to see how upset Hauptmann Vianden was, but his seat was strangely empty and so was Eugen’s.

All of a sudden the braces on Stephen’s lederhosen snapped and his trousers started to slide down during one of the more active movements.  There were gasps from the crowd as his enormous Englischer Schwanz became apparent. Frl. von Billung put one hand over her mouth and pointed to this calamitous result of the failure of German technology and Stephen managed to salvage some modesty by clutching at the waist, but not before he had earned admiring applause from women and men—especially on the left side of the room.

The couple jumped from the stage and Frl. von Billung was returned to her seat where she removed her wig and blouse while Stephen bowed gallantly and left her for the lavatory, a waiter hurrying after him with his real trousers.

Stephen was busy removing the defective garments when he heard the scraping of metal—of swords in their scabbards—on the tiles.  Then he heard a familiar voice say “Ja.”  It quickly became apparent that Eugen was in a cubicle but was not alone.   A second pair of shiny boots beneath the door (observed in the reflection of the looking-glass) could only be those of his commanding officer.  Stephen dressed hurriedly and returned to the table.

Martin and Friedrich were still the object of everyone’s attention so Stephen just smiled and laughed and turned to Frl. von Billung and said, “Sehr komisch!”

At last Friedrich and Martin were liberated and replaced with another ‘volunteer’ from the audience who was made to sing the parts of a silly song.  Hauptmann Kapitän Vianden and Eugen returned to the table.  More beer was ordered and Stephen took the opportunity to apologise to Frl. von Billung who simply said, “Es war eine sehr angenehme Überraschung!” and smiled prettily, and indeed it was a very big surprise to Stephen too.

Then there was an announcement.  A collection was to be made for the building of a new Luftschiff  by the popular eccentric and patriot, Graf von Zeppelin.  A cigar-shaped box was circulated and the contributions were generous.  Martin was thrilled and vowed to fly in one of the Count’s airships one day.

The evening came to an end at a respectably early German hour and the friends departed with a repeat of the salutes, kissing and heel clicking.

That night in bed Stephen, when he’d finished teasing Martin about his cute performance (which was effectively countered by Martin’s teasing of Stephen for his disgraceful one) he told Martin about what he saw—or rather heard—in the lavatory.

“Should we tell Friedrich?” asked Martin.

“Why?” replied Stephen, “What’s the point?  Friedrich is happy now, why should we destroy that?  He will find out about Eugen eventually and then it will be up to him whether to accept it or condemn it.  We don’t know what Eugen’s position is.  It’s none of our business.  I think we should say nothing, Mala.”

Martin felt sorry for his cousin, but was forced to agree with Stephen’s reasoning and so said nothing when they passed the next day pleasantly at the beach.

The following day after an hour of exercises and a good lunch there was a tearful farewell to Eugen who returned to his regiment and presumably to Hauptmann Vianden.  On the next train Friedrich’s brothers, Arno and Oskar, arrived.

Stephen was a wonderful ‘big brother’ to young Oskar over the next two days and the youngster came to admire him enormously.  The brothers participated in the morning exercises with enthusiasm.  Arno was less stiff than at home and told them stories about his army service and how much he enjoyed it.  This love of the army seemed alien to Stephen and Martin, but the sincerity of the sentiments could not be doubted.

They all returned to Ritterburg and fell into country life.  Friedrich’s mother proved to be charming and the boys enjoyed helping her in her ‘English Garden’ where Stephen was especially useful in shifting rocks for her new alpine garden.

On their second day back Carlo gave a butler’s cough and got the attention of his two masters.  “Your lordship, I think you should have this.”  He handed over a small book.

“What is this, Carlo?” said Martin, turning the pages of the diary and then passing it over to Stephen.

“It is—or was—the property of Count Osmochescu, your lordship.”  Martin looked for more information.  “I believe it is written in a foreign language—possibly Rumanian, milord, but you will see on the second last page your name and Mr Knight’s name are quite plain.  I think this name,” he said looking over Stephen’s shoulder and pointing, “might be that of Mr Churchill.”

Indeed it looked like it.  “Where did you get it, Carlo.”

“My friend Herr Kaliszuk obtained it when the Count was out riding.  It seems to have fallen from his pocket.”

“But why did he give it to you?”

“Well, sir, Roman and I have become…err…quite close.  I had told him that I suspected that the Count had been searching our rooms—I’m sorry sir, I shouldn’t have said anything, but it was said at a moment of some intimacy.  Roman cannot read it but he wondered if the Count was working for the Russians whom he fears, or perhaps for the German government.  He is Polish sir, and said that while he didn’t mind being a Prussian and would pay his taxes, obey the law and do his military service, he was less keen on being a German.  The Poles have enemies all around them, in his view, sir.  They don’t think like us.”

“What should we do, Derbs?”

“I think we should give it to Mr Churchill as he is mentioned in it.  If it’s harmless, we can send it back.”

This course of action was agreed upon and Stephen put the book in his trunk where others would have stored underwear.

The farewells were made a few days later.  Martin presented Graf von Oettingen-Taxis with a silver-framed photograph of his late mother and Aunt Maud— his cousins— standing on the terrace of Croome.  He was touched.

Friedrich went with them in the car to Königsberg where they met the steamer that would take them along the Baltic and across the North Sea to England.  He hugged them both and promised to come to England one day.

Gulls wheeled overhead as they stood and waved from the breezy railing amid the wafting coal smoke.  The engines throbbed and the screws sprang to life churning the still waters of the Frisches Haff.  The vessel pulled away from the land, Friedrich growing smaller and smaller on the wharf.  In 70 hours they would be in Hull.

“Lord Martin, Herr Knight-Poole!  This is a pleasant surprise.  How nice this voyage will be with such agreeable young travelling companions.”  The boys turned around.  There, beaming stood the avuncular figure of Count Osmochescu.

To be continued... 

Thanks for reading.  If you have any comments or questions, Henry and I would love to hear from you.

Posted: 12/13/13