Free The Midnight Guardian by Sarah-Jane Stratford Page B

hotly pursued by a rising star in the Reich Chamber of Culture. Brigit laughed scornfully when she heard that.
    â€œCulture! They’ve chased out all their best artists and musicians, how much work could there be to justify an entire Chamber?”
    â€œHe says they are very busy.” Meaghan sniffed defensively.
    â€œProbably hunting down more artists to send into exile.”

    â€œNo, trying to factory-grow new ones to suit the enforced tastes,” Mors countered. “They probably keep a cauldron in the cellar—throw in some spices and phoom , instant artist. The ultimate alchemy: the creation of creativity. Ah, clever, clever Nazis. Give a stir, and marvelous: a musician! Dip the ladle and out comes a playwright! Dip again and there’s an actor, prepared to declaim in a stirring baritone whilst turning out his leg to its finest angle. He finishes with a flourish and oompah, oompah, oompah, the orchestra strikes up a rousing march. Ooh, they do like a good march, don’t they? What a delicious concoction. But there’s a catch, there’s always a catch. These avatars of efficiency forgot a crucial ingredient! Playwright! Actor! Musician! Painter! Curse the luck but don’t they need hearts? And souls, yes, in the last analysis, they need souls. This soufflé is doomed to collapse. And that, that is their great failing, isn’t it? Ooooh, yes, whatever that Speer fellow may have in mind, the greatest empires are remembered for their culture, and this piddling would-be empire is sadly bereft. Poor deluded things. I’d put them out of their misery now, if I were a kindhearted sort, but it’s such fun to watch. And we do need our entertainment in these strange times, don’t we?”
    Swefred stood, and put an arm around Meaghan.
    â€œSome more than others. The sun’s coming up. We’re going to bed. Carry on if you like, I’m sure you can go on in this vein for quite some time.”
    â€œOh yes, I can play with myself for hours on end.”
    Swefred and Meaghan left the other three to their laughter.
    Brigit’s warm smile lingered in her eyes, even as she shook her head at Mors.
    â€œIt’s not true, though. You know it isn’t. The Roman Empire was perhaps the most powerful the world has ever seen. And they had buildings and sculpture, yes, but nothing like the Greeks. Their plays, their poetry, it was all derivative. No one cares.”
    â€œThey had fine music.”
    â€œNo one remembers it.”
    â€œI do.”
    â€œBut that means nothing. You don’t count. It’s history’s count that matters, and by history’s count, what made the Romans great was their ability to reach a hand far around the globe … and squeeze.”

    Mors was silent for half a moment.
    â€œI do like you when you’re figurative.”
    She turned away from him and he reached out and took her wrist.
    â€œThey won’t get the chance. Even if we weren’t here, think of how powerful our blessed England is.”
    A swell of pride rallied Brigit and she grinned at him.
    â€œBut we are here. England may save her strength.”
    Cleland spoke then.
    â€œWe did well tonight. We made good ground, for them to lie in.”
    Before Brigit tucked herself up in bed, she pressed her hand tight to the drawing of herself and Eamon, willing it to vibrate warm under her fingers.
    Oh, my Eamon. I will play this game like a champion. And I will be home with you. Very soon.
    For the first time since Otonia had announced the plan, Brigit went to sleep with a smile on her face.

Chapter 6
    London. December 1938.
    Even after a third reading, the letter still trembled in his hand. Eamon didn’t know why he was so upset. This was the plan, after all, and it was all going forward exactly as expected, so what difference did it make? This Gerhard certainly sounded like a live one, the perfect dupe for Brigit’s abilities, and with such