Karl Ernst’s last year at home was the worst in his life, and was the case for his younger sister Anneliese as well, whose main focus in life had nothing to do with studying the curriculum in school. She was totally captivated by the Sumerian cuneiform writings being brought to the Vorderasiatisches Museum in Berlin, where she would travel at least once a month to roam the 14 halls covered with displays spanning six millennia. Many of the staff reported she knew more about these ancient writings and could translate them better than Professor Dr. Heinrich Lutz-Martin who curated the museum. Anneliese died of tuberculosis a week after her older brother left for college. Karl Ernst always believed her death was actually her own way of escaping the soul-destroying, oppressive atmosphere of life under Carl and Anna Krafft.
After fourteen hours, Captain Payne regained consciousness and still remained in great pain. A severe chill was now added to his discomfort. In slowly moving his head Payne could see why – he was completely naked. Deposited in a small, windowless concrete room that appeared recently built, the solid grey walls and lack of windows gave no clue of his location.
The sound of distant doors opening and closing brought footsteps to his door, which echoed with the clang of a massive metal keys and a loud click of the lock.
“Ah! Good morning, Captain! I trust you slept well?”
Towering over Payne stood Schellenberg, now in an all-black Gestapo uniform. Struggling to notice the Nazi’s rank, Payne’s eyes were not yet able to focus on the smaller details of on leather coat. Feeling a strange dryness in his mouth, Payne wondered if he could even speak.
“Come, let us have breakfast together.” Schellenberg said while snapping his fingers. Two guards then entered. Both half carried Payne out of the room and down the long dark corridor to the left. He noticed Schellenberg turning in the opposite direction after exiting the cell.
As Payne and his escorts neared a stairwell, the screams of two or three men and women could be heard from the bottom of the steps.
Even though he only knew a little French, Goebbels knew the meaning over every word in this particular passage – and especially its significance – thanks to a conversation between himself and Magda had almost two years before.
“…but it works out to be exactly 1939, Joseph… look!”
Herr Goebbels had been in his study working on a speech that was supposed to be delivered to Hermann Göring that evening. However, he learned long ago, to listen to his wife whenever she was excited about something, and Magda was clearly excited now.
“Has this come about by your interpretation, or your interpretation of another interpretation?” His wife’s answer would determine if Goebbels would continue to work on the speech or dive into the idea that appeared to be developing in their bedroom.
Magda sat on their massive medieval bed with a huge red book open and several pages of notes scattered all around her. She ignored Joseph’s question as she was all to familiar with his various forms of resistance to her ideas.
“Here… look. These first two lines state during the course of 290 years, Britain would change its ruling dynasty seven times,” she referred to another book, “…which it did.”
“So?”
Irritated she continued, “The ruler of England at the time of this Nostradamus’ prediction was Charles the First, who was executed in 1649.”
“So?”
“If you add 290 years to 1649 you get 1939 – this passage is talking about a war that is going to happen NEXT year!”
Magda was an honor student in history, so Herr Goebbels did not ask for verification. “And…?”
“Annnnd… the second two lines say that Aries – meaning war – will come between Germany and another German tribe, the Bastarnan, who are a people that will be protected by Britain.”
“But what has this got to do with Poland?”
“Joseph, in Nostradamus’ time, the Germanic group called the Bastarnan, were settled on the eastern side of the Vistula, which today is Poland!”
“Jaaa…” Joseph’s tone suggested she continue, for although he was beginning to understand, the big picture she obviously saw was still not clear to him… yet. For in his mind was the question Bettina would ask almost exactly two years later.
“So, what does this passage say about the end of the war?
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Herr Goebbels began to feel warm. His wife’s excitement over some obscure historical fact had taken him away from Göring’s speech – which had a deadline. He entered his bedroom with the impression Magda had found a Nostradamus passage predicting the upcoming war with a Nazi victory.
“But I thought you said we can use this for predicting victory for the Reich!”
“We can… for victory… or anything we want!” Magda was the only person in Germany who could cool down her husband when something he expected did not occur exactly as he pictured it. She could was also one of the few people who could do the opposite.
“Dear, we simply release articles with this passage, which is authentic and the interpretation can be verified by any expert… then we follow this with other Nostradamus passages known to show Germany in a favorable light… also authentic. Done. The headlines can read: Nostradamus Predicts Nazi Victory.”
Magda now had her husband’s full attention.
The Count kept his eyes focused on von Wohl as he walked off – a look he always gave when sizing up an opponent. Well, he thought, at least that fat little pretender did play along about knowing me.
As von Wohl and the Countess approached her son, Baron Harals Keun von Hoogerwoerd, the Count began to scheme how to meet von Wohl after the ball. The Count had to make sure von Wohl remained non-hostile should the later remember where they had seen each other, if he hadn’t done so already. He headed to a table full of Dutch shipping agents – his employees – to make the arrangements to have von Wohl intercepted before leaving the event.
“Herr von Wohl, I would like you to meet my son,” the Countess said, pulling a young man away from an Italian general, “Baron Harals Keun von Hoogerwoerd.”
Both men gave a respectful bow.
“He will tell you some things about astrology I’m sure you could use in your next play.” Her voice seemed to carry throughout the ballroom, acting as an advertisement for her son and von Wohl – as well as herself as one who travels among interesting company. Her performance was also an act to continue her husband’s embarrassment.
Von Wohl’s previous plans for this evening were canceled due to a certain husband not going away on a planned weekend hunting trip – forcing his date to fulfill her marital obligations. His second choice for the evening did not pick up her telephone, so he ended up using a ticket for the yearly Ball given to him by a fan inside the Dutch Embassy. He was now completely satisfied the first two did not materialize.
Three years ago he attended this very same event and was bored stiff. Von Wohl swore he would never attend another, however his attendance to this year’s ball would turn out to be more than an amusing evening, it was an introduction to his lifeline. In a few short months his connection the von Hoogerwoerd family will be the only thread saving his life.