Free Vienna Blood by Frank Tallis Page A

Heathen's Gate in the distance, black against the horizon—a great arch, towering above us. When we had accomplished our goal, I lit the solstice fire. We stood, united, and drank toasts to the long-forgotten heroes of the Quadi … and in the glowing embers of that holy fire, I arranged our bottles in the shape of the eighteenth rune. The stars glittered in a clear sky, as lamps in heaven.”
    As he said these words, List raised his hands as though beseeching a deity. He remained in this position for a moment before allowing his hands to slowly descend. When he spoke again, his voice was less reverential.
    “In the weeks after the removal of my cataracts, I was confined to bed, the only comfort being the press of my dear wife's hand, and I experienced …” His sentence trailed off. “I experienced a kind of … waking dream. Again, I found myself approaching the Heathen's Gate … where I lit not a solstice fire but an invocatory fire. I stared into the dancing flames, which began to suggest certain forms— fleeting patterns that sprang into being before vanishing. Among the twisting ropes of fire, I could detect a certain regularity of shape—the curvature and intersection of lines, the emergence of a luminous female figure that, by degrees, achieved permanence. What followed was an experience that is almost impossible to communicate. …Words, ordinarily so potent, seem utterly inadequate; however, after many hours of intense reflection, I could only conclude that my experience was one of mystical revelation.”
    The assembly stirred, and a few puzzled glances were exchanged.
    “Long hours of interminable lonely darkness have liberated my spirit. It has soared through the abyss, and communed with the weltseele, the world soul. … I have become a channel, through which sacred knowledge flows. … I speak to you this evening not as a blind scholar but as a prophet. The thousand-year twilight of the German people is coming to a close. We will see, in our epoch, the dawn of a new golden age of heroism. Let our enemies mock and scoff—let them deride the old ways … for their days will soon be at an end.”
    Unexpectedly, two men in the middle of the assembly stood up and raised their hands.
    “Heil und Sieg!” they cried. Soon the battle cry had been taken up by everyone present.

10
    A FTER THE MEETING HAD been brought to a successful close and the vote of thanks given, Von Triebenbach issued discreet invitations to his most trusted deputies. He was delighted to report that their distinguished guest had consented to attend an informal party, upstairs in Von Triebenbach's apartment. They climbed up the stone steps that ascended from the basement—with its honeycomb of chambers—to the ground floor, where they negotiated a further flight of stairs leading to the first floor. At Von Triebenbach's door they were welcomed by servants wearing cockade hats and were escorted through two anterooms into an impressive parlor.
    A mountain of glowing coals burned brightly under the arch of a large black-marble fireplace. On the mantelpiece was a substantial clock, the intricate workings of which were visible through a glass cover. The furniture—consisting of display cabinets, a bureau, three couches, and several chairs—was early-eighteenth-century. Striped burgundy wallpaper adorned the walls, and classical figures—almost life-size—made silent music on pipes and lyres. The center of the room was dominated by a rosewood-veneer grand piano, the castors of which were buried in a thick Persian carpet.
    Aschenbrandt was eager to show List his work, and as soon as the great man was settled on one of the couches, he begged the baron to introduce him. List accepted the young man's proffered hand, and Von Triebenbach—always kindly disposed to Aschenbrandt—explained that the young musician was eager to perform the overture of a work in progress: an opera based on the author's novel Carnuntum.
    List graciously consented and