The Tower: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

slabs that were bordered by hedges of sweet briar. He opened the door with an ornate key that had been stained with brazing solder. Christian would often see the key in his mind’s eye when he was lying in bed in his boarder’s room in Waldbrunn and think: the House with a Thousand Eyes. As he adjusted his bag over his shoulder, he felt warmed by Meno’s ‘here’: it took in the whole district, the villas all around in the darkness and snow, the gardens and the barn owl still calling in the depths of the park, the copper beech, the names. Meno switched on the hall light; the house seemed to open its eyes. Christian touched the sandstone of the arch; he also touched – a superstition, the origin of which was lost – the wrought-iron flower on the gate, a strangely shaped ornament that could often be seen up here: petals curving out in snail-like whorls round a curving stem which was also encircled by several coils of an elaborate spiral; a plant that, with its aura of beauty and danger, had already fascinated Christian as a child – sometimes he would spend half an hour contemplating the bee lily. The name came from Meno. Christian followed his uncle into the house.

The House with a Thousand Eyes
     
    The door, rounded at the top, with wrought-iron hinges, fell shut. Meno didn’t take his coat off. In a vase on the table below the hall mirror, there was a bouquet of roses; Meno carefully wrapped it in paper that was waiting there. ‘From Libussa’s conservatory,’ he said proudly. ‘You just try to get something like that in Dresden at this time of year. Just see what the others have to offer: Centraflor only has funeral wreaths, poinsettias and cyclamen.’ Meno picked up a slim package that was beside the vase.
    ‘Anne’s brought a few things for you, up in the cabin. What shall we do with the barometer? I promised Anne I’d be there a bit before things start.’
    ‘Have you any wrapping paper?’
    ‘In the kitchen.’
    ‘Then I’ll take some weather all wrapped up with me.’
    ‘Nicely put, my friend. Before you go, will you please check the stove? Towels are upstairs. You can have a shower if you want, the boiler’s on.’
    ‘Had one already, back at the hostel.’
    ‘I’ll leave the key here for you. I’ve also told Libussa, in case there should be a problem.’
    Meno went into the living room. Not long after, Christian, who had taken his shoes and parka off, heard the clatter of the stove door and the thump of briquettes. The tongs clanged against the ash-pan, Meno came back. There was a gurgle of water from the kitchen. ‘And don’t give in to Baba if he comes begging, he’s had enough already, the fat beast. Leave him in the hall, the heat will all be gone if theliving-room door’s left open, and I don’t want to see a disgusting mess like we had the day before yesterday ever again.’
    ‘What did he do?’
    ‘Calmly did his business behind the ten-minute clock. And I was only away for an hour!’
    Christian laughed. Meno, checking his appearance and adjusting his tie in the mirror, growled, ‘Such a lazybones. I didn’t feel like laughing, I can tell you. And the stench! … Ah, well. Please bear that in mind.’
    ‘How are things at work?’
    ‘Later,’ said Meno at the door and, holding the slim package and the flowers he’d put in a bag, tipped his hat.
    Christian took a pair of felt slippers out of the shoe cabinet by the door, started, and quickly looked round. He’d heard a creak, perhaps from the kitchen, perhaps from upstairs, where the cabin was – that was what Meno and the ship’s doctor called the bedroom where Christian was going to sleep. Perhaps the floorboards under the worn runner were moving. Christian waited, but there was nothing more to be heard. He slowly took in the familiar but still astonishing things: the dark-green, slightly faded fabric wallcovering with the plant and salamander motifs in the hall; the oval mirror, whose silvering was tarnished in