The Winter Horses Read Online Free PDF Page B

“I expect you know very well why I haven’t been there.”
    “Yes, I suppose I do. But look here, Max, I didn’t have much choice in the matter. Not after my superiors in Berlinmade up their minds. I tried to explain this to you the other day. I’m just a captain, not a general. And I don’t make policy decisions in such matters. I just execute them.”
    “It makes no difference what you are, out here,” said Max. “You’re the man in charge.” He shrugged. “And it seems to me that we’ve always got a choice. I think that’s what makes us human. Any man who says he hasn’t got a choice about something might as well admit that he’s not much better than Molnija here, with a bit in his mouth and a saddle on his back.”
    “Molnija?” For a moment, Grenzmann looked puzzled. “Oh, you mean Lightning, don’t you? I didn’t say, did I? Yes, I’ve renamed this horse. In the circumstances, I thought that was appropriate.”
    Max frowned. “I can’t say I hold with giving animals new names any more than I hold with killing them for no good reason.”
    “Look here,” said Grenzmann. “Please don’t take that lofty tone with me. I rode out here to make sure that there are no hard feelings between us. In the same spirit of conciliation, I should like to invite you to come to dinner tonight.”
    “To eat my own dead horses? I don’t think so, sir, thank you kindly.”
    “Max, Max.” Grenzmann sighed. “Be reasonable. We could hardly let all that fresh meat go to waste. There’s a war on, don’t you know? Good meat is in shortage.There are people in this part of the world who are starving. Besides, horse meat is much better for you than beef or pork. Did you know that? Back in Germany, we make a very popular sausage—
Rosswurst—
out of horse meat.”
    “If you’ll forgive me for saying so, Captain, it’s my sincerest hope that you and your men are soon back in Germany, eating some of that delicious-sounding sausage.”
    And with those words, Max walked away, followed closely at his heels by Taras.
    Captain Grenzmann mounted the stallion and came after the old man.
    “Well, I’m very sorry to disappoint you, Max, but I don’t think this is going to happen; at least not for a while longer anyway. My battalion is cut off from our own lines, you see. By the Red Army. We’re encircled in this reserve of yours. And until our own forces can break through to us, we’re stuck here at Askaniya-Nova. Perhaps until the spring. So you’ll have to put up with us for a while longer.”
    This was unwelcome news to Max—doubly so in the current circumstances—but he said nothing and trudged on.
    “Anyway, if you do change your mind about dinner tonight, just come along. I can assure you, you’ll be very welcome in our mess. I don’t mind confessing to you that my men would feel a lot better if you were there. It’s been troubling them, what happened here yesterday and the day before. They’re all good boys, you know. Withgood hearts.” With a hard snap of the reins, Grenzmann brought Molnija up short. “Anyway. Think it over.
Auf Wiedersehen
.”
    The captain wheeled Molnija around and then galloped swiftly away.
    Max watched them go as far as the horizon with eyes that were full of contempt.
    “ ‘Lightning,’ he says. Did you hear him, Taras? What would you say if I gave you a new German name after all these years?”
    Taras barked and put back his ears and growled as if the idea appalled him, too.
    Max spat and looked up at the leaden sky, which was full of snow, although he could have wished for a real bolt of lightning to strike down the SS captain or, at the very least, to knock him off his horse.

T HAT NIGHT, THERE WAS a blizzard that turned the sky the same color as the ground. It seemed that everything outside was white.
    Inside his cottage, Max built up the fire, threw an old horse blanket in front of the gap under his front door, filled a ceramic hot-water bottle to cradle on his lap