Read Online The Winter Horses by Philip Kerr - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Philip Kerr
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threatened the girl and the horses.
Finally, the captain arrived and, as usual, he was full of smiles and impeccable good manners.
“Isn’t it a wonderful morning, Max?” he said, breathing heavily.
Max looked up at the sky almost as if he hadn’t noticed it before and nodded.
“You’ve brought the sun with you, sir,” he said agreeably.
Captain Grenzmann turned in his saddle and looked behind him.
“Yes, you’re right, Max, I think I have.” He lit a cigarette and smoked it thoughtfully. “I wanted to see the steppe in the dawn while the snow was still perfect.”
“I expect that’s the artist in you, sir,” said Max. “Not the soldier.”
“Yes, you’re right about that, too. Sometimes, I think I should like to come back and live here, after the war, and paint this wonderful place. The colors here are alwayschanging, just like an artist’s palette. I’ve never painted landscapes and I have an idea I’d be very good at it.”
“I’m sure you would be, sir.”
“I would have painted it before but I don’t have any paints. Just my pen and my inks. And you can’t do justice to a dawn like that with just pen and ink. Can you?”
“No, sir.”
“You know, I’m a little disappointed in you, Max. I thought we were friends.”
“It’s kind of you to say so, sir.”
“Well, yes, it is, under the circumstances. It’s not every Russian peasant who gets asked to dinner by an SS battalion. We missed you last night, Max.”
“I would have come but for the blizzard, sir.”
“I wonder about that. I mean, I know you have a pocket watch, Max. And I noticed it didn’t start snowing until well after eight o’clock, by which time we’d already begun to eat.”
Max shrugged. “That’s true. But I took one look at the sky and I just knew it was going to be bad. So I stayed home.”
Grenzmann jumped down from the saddle and tossed the reins behind him.
“Well, then, it’s lucky for you that I feel able to ask you again for tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“Yes. I believe we’re having goulash, made from horse meat, of course. But you won’t know the difference,believe me. Last night, the cook made sauerbraten and I couldn’t have told you if it was horse or beef he used. Really, I couldn’t. So. Will you come?”
Had it not been for his concealed guests, Max would certainly have refused, but all he could think of now was how to get rid of the captain as quickly as possible.
“Yes, sir. And it’s kind of you to ask me. Of course I’ll come.”
“Good.”
Molnija lifted his nose in the air and snorted; then he clapped his hoof on the snow and lowered his head as if trying to find some grass. If Max hadn’t known that the big Hanoverian stallion could smell the two Przewalski’s horses, he might have said he was hungry.
“All that talk of food has made Lightning hungry, I think,” said Captain Grenzmann.
Max threw down his axe. “If you’ll wait here a moment, I’ll bring him a bucket of feed, sir.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Max,” said Grenzmann. “We can help ourselves, can’t we, boy?”
“It’s no trouble at all,” he said, hurrying toward the stable. But Molnija was already trotting there on his own ahead of him.
“Really, Max,” said Grenzmann, striding after him. “I can do it. You’re not my servant. Not when you’re here, at your own home. As I said before, you and I are friends. I feel there’s a bond between you and me. Perhaps it’s because of the way you speak German, I don’t know. It’s strange. But there it is.”
With Grenzmann close on his heels, Max hurried around the corner just in time to see Molnija turn into the stable. Surely, he thought, the game was up now; with any luck, Kalinka would have had the presence of mind to hide herself in the loft, but there was no way that Grenzmann was going to overlook the presence of two “forbidden” horses in Max’s stable. He would very probably shoot the horses and then
Finally, the captain arrived and, as usual, he was full of smiles and impeccable good manners.
“Isn’t it a wonderful morning, Max?” he said, breathing heavily.
Max looked up at the sky almost as if he hadn’t noticed it before and nodded.
“You’ve brought the sun with you, sir,” he said agreeably.
Captain Grenzmann turned in his saddle and looked behind him.
“Yes, you’re right, Max, I think I have.” He lit a cigarette and smoked it thoughtfully. “I wanted to see the steppe in the dawn while the snow was still perfect.”
“I expect that’s the artist in you, sir,” said Max. “Not the soldier.”
“Yes, you’re right about that, too. Sometimes, I think I should like to come back and live here, after the war, and paint this wonderful place. The colors here are alwayschanging, just like an artist’s palette. I’ve never painted landscapes and I have an idea I’d be very good at it.”
“I’m sure you would be, sir.”
“I would have painted it before but I don’t have any paints. Just my pen and my inks. And you can’t do justice to a dawn like that with just pen and ink. Can you?”
“No, sir.”
“You know, I’m a little disappointed in you, Max. I thought we were friends.”
“It’s kind of you to say so, sir.”
“Well, yes, it is, under the circumstances. It’s not every Russian peasant who gets asked to dinner by an SS battalion. We missed you last night, Max.”
“I would have come but for the blizzard, sir.”
“I wonder about that. I mean, I know you have a pocket watch, Max. And I noticed it didn’t start snowing until well after eight o’clock, by which time we’d already begun to eat.”
Max shrugged. “That’s true. But I took one look at the sky and I just knew it was going to be bad. So I stayed home.”
Grenzmann jumped down from the saddle and tossed the reins behind him.
“Well, then, it’s lucky for you that I feel able to ask you again for tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“Yes. I believe we’re having goulash, made from horse meat, of course. But you won’t know the difference,believe me. Last night, the cook made sauerbraten and I couldn’t have told you if it was horse or beef he used. Really, I couldn’t. So. Will you come?”
Had it not been for his concealed guests, Max would certainly have refused, but all he could think of now was how to get rid of the captain as quickly as possible.
“Yes, sir. And it’s kind of you to ask me. Of course I’ll come.”
“Good.”
Molnija lifted his nose in the air and snorted; then he clapped his hoof on the snow and lowered his head as if trying to find some grass. If Max hadn’t known that the big Hanoverian stallion could smell the two Przewalski’s horses, he might have said he was hungry.
“All that talk of food has made Lightning hungry, I think,” said Captain Grenzmann.
Max threw down his axe. “If you’ll wait here a moment, I’ll bring him a bucket of feed, sir.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Max,” said Grenzmann. “We can help ourselves, can’t we, boy?”
“It’s no trouble at all,” he said, hurrying toward the stable. But Molnija was already trotting there on his own ahead of him.
“Really, Max,” said Grenzmann, striding after him. “I can do it. You’re not my servant. Not when you’re here, at your own home. As I said before, you and I are friends. I feel there’s a bond between you and me. Perhaps it’s because of the way you speak German, I don’t know. It’s strange. But there it is.”
With Grenzmann close on his heels, Max hurried around the corner just in time to see Molnija turn into the stable. Surely, he thought, the game was up now; with any luck, Kalinka would have had the presence of mind to hide herself in the loft, but there was no way that Grenzmann was going to overlook the presence of two “forbidden” horses in Max’s stable. He would very probably shoot the horses and then
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