knew that he also owned the house she was living
in. She felt a large lump growing in her stomach.
‘Don’t look so worried, my dear Helena,’
Brockhard exclaimed, and the warmth was
suddenly back in his voice. ‘I wasn’t considering
taking the house from your mother, you
understand.’
But the lump in Helena’s stomach continued to
grow and grow. He might as well have added: ‘Or
from my own daughter-in-law.’
‘Venezia!’ he shouted.
Helena turned towards the stable door where the
groom emerged from the shadows, leading a
shining white horse. Even though a storm of ideas
was raging through her mind, the sight made
Helena forget for a moment. It was the most
beautiful horse she had ever seen; it was like a
supernatural creature standing in front of her.
‘A Lipizzaner,’ Brockhard said. ‘The world’s
best-trained breed of horse. Imported from Spain
in 1562 by Maximilian II. You and your mother
must have seen them performing at the Spanische
Reitschule in town, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘It’s like watching ballet, isn’t it?’
Helena nodded. She couldn’t take her eyes off the
animal. ‘They take their summer holiday here in the
Lainzer Tiergarten until the end of August.
Unfortunately, no one else apart from the riders at
the Spanish Riding School is allowed to ride them.
Untrained riders could inculcate bad habits. Years
of punctilious dressage would go to waste.’
The horse was saddled. Brockhard grabbed the
halter and the groom moved away. The animal
stood stock still.
‘Some consider it cruel to teach horses dance
steps. They say the animals suffer from having to
do things which are contrary to their nature. People
who say this kind of thing haven’t seen these
horses in training, but I have. And, believe me,
horses love it. Do you know why?’
He stroked the horse’s muzzle. ‘Because that is
the order of nature. In His wisdom God so
ordained it that an inferior creature is never
happier than when serving and obeying a superior
creature. You only have to look at children and
adults. At women and men. Even in so-called
democratic countries the weak willingly concede
power to an elite which is stronger and wiser than
they. That is just the way it is. And because we’re
all God’s creatures it is the responsibility of
superior beings to ensure that inferior beings
submit.’
‘To make them happy?’
‘Precisely, Helena. You understand a lot for
...such a young woman.’
She couldn’t determine which of the two words
he gave greater stress. ‘To know your place is
important, both for high and low. If you resist it, in
the long term you will never become happy.’
He patted the horse on the neck and looked into
Venezia’s large brown eyes.
‘You’re not the type to resist, are you?’
Helena knew that the question was directed at her
and closed her eyes while she tried to breathe
deeply and calmly. She was aware that what she
said now or what she didn’t say could be crucial
for the rest of her life; she couldn’t afford to let the
anger of the moment be the deciding factor.
‘Are you?’
Suddenly Venezia whinnied and shook her head
to the side, causing Brockhard to slip and lose
balance. He hung on to the halter under the horse’s
neck. The groom dashed to his aid, but before he
could get there, Brockhard, his face red and sweat-
stained, had struggled to his feet and angrily waved
him away. Helena could not stifle a smile, and
perhaps Brockhard saw it. In any event, he raised
his whip to the horse, then came to his senses and
let it fall again. He articulated a few words with
his heart-shaped mouth, which amused Helena
even more. Then he went over to Helena, placing
his hand lightly but imperiously against the small
of her back again:
‘We’ve seen enough, and you have important
work awaiting you, Helena. Allow me to
accompany you to the car.’
They stood by the steps to the house while the
chauffeur got into the car and drove forward.
‘I hope and assume we will see each other again
soon, Helena,’ he said, taking her hand.
‘Incidentally, my wife asked me to pass on her
regards to your mother. Indeed, I believe she said
she would invite you over one weekend soon. I
don’t remember when, but you will be hearing
from her.’
Helena waited until the chauffeur had got out and
opened the door for her before saying, ‘Do you
know why the dressage horse threw you to the
ground, Herr Brockhard?’
She could see in his eyes that his temperature was