V Alexander - The Taster

Two ladies in fine dresses and a large man in a suit sat on a wide couch facing the fire. The man wore a monocle over his right eye. The group looked uncomfortable on the couch because it was so big they had to lean forward with no support for their backs. Otherwise, they would look like stuffed dolls with their legs hanging over the lip of the couch. One large chair sat angled next to the fire. I assumed this chair was for Hitler. Eva sat to the right of it with the Scotties at her feet. There was another large chair to the left with a small table in between.

“Sit in that chair,” Karl whispered to me, and pointed to the vacant chair to the left of the empty one. “I’ll distract Eva. She loves it when men flirt with her.”

I took my seat. Not one of the guests recognized me or said hello. They all continued their private conversations. I watched as Karl went to Eva and bowed. Her eyes lit up as he complimented her dress and appearance. I heard him say, “How lovely you look… as radiant as the winter stars… .” He heaped on the flattery. She ordered a valet to rearrange the chairs so Karl could sit on her other side.

I had chosen a black dinner dress with long sleeves, offered to me by Cook when she learned of my invitation. I made sure my Party pin was prominently displayed. To complete my outfit, I had also been given a centuries-old “poison ring” by Karl. He had purchased it in an antiques shop in Munich. The ring consisted of a silver band with a black opal on its top, which concealed a secret compartment. In it were a few granules of cyanide.

As we waited for Hitler, some of the guests looked my way and asked a few ingratiating questions. I struggled to keep my hands from shaking. Karl and I had rehearsed our plan for several days. He said it was crucial that I remain calm at all times. I wished the evening were over—the experience with Minna had tempered my enthusiasm for intrigue. The only way I could keep my hands still was to grasp my fingers and keep them planted firmly in my lap.

Eva was captivated by Karl. She laughed and smiled and threw her head back as he chatted with her. She was the picture of a woman in the throes of flirtatious infatuation. His ploy worked so successfully that a shiver of jealousy settled upon me for an instant. However, it was ridiculous to feel jealous of Eva Braun. Hitler would have her tossed out of the Berghof, or worse, for any sexual indiscretion.

A tap on my arm startled me. A young woman, who wore a fine cream-colored dress dripping with accent jewels, stared at me. The neckline was fitted with an ermine collar. “I was admiring your ring,” she said to me. “May I look at it?” She reached expectantly toward my right hand.

I was taken aback by her request and I instinctively withdrew my hand. Karl noticed and his eyes caught mine. He nodded casually and continued his conversation with Eva.

“Of course,” I said, and held out my hand. “But please be careful, it’s very old—it was a gift from my great-grandmother.”

“Oh, I won’t touch it,” she said. She grasped my fourth finger and bent down, examining the ring for several moments. “It’s stunning. I love stones of all kinds. This is one of the most beautiful black opals I’ve ever seen. I do wish I could try it on.”

My heart jumped, but I managed to say, “I wish you could, too, but the band is very fragile. I only wear it on special occasions, such as tonight. Tea with the Führer! I don’t often get the chance.”

She released my hand. “I see. What do you do?”

“I’m in service to the Führer. I stand between him and death. I taste his food.” I imagined that my job would shock this lady, whoever she was, and that the description of my position might cause a reaction. It did. She suppressed a low moan, put her hand to her stomach and returned to the couch. A few minutes later, I caught her looking at me and whispering to the finely attired woman next to her. No introductions would be necessary now.

The south door opened. A valet entered and stood stiffly by it. Hitler, followed by several of his adjutants, entered the room. We all rose and saluted when he entered. He was wearing a black double-breasted suit. He seemed a little older, his face more careworn than the last time we had met. Blondi was by his side on the leash. As soon as the German shepherd entered the room, Eva’s dogs barked and howled. She commanded them to stop, but they paid little attention to her. Hitler frowned and handed Blondi back to his valet. The door closed and the dog was gone. We continued to stand until Hitler had made his way around the room, bowing to the women, kissing their hands, shaking hands with Karl and the other man before sitting in the chair next to me.

The leather crackled as he sat. He didn’t speak for several minutes; he brushed his brown hair back from his forehead several times and stared into the fire. The intensity of the blaze was mirrored in his eyes. I had been warned not to speak unless he had spoken to me. I fidgeted in my seat while the other guests fell silent waiting for the Führer to speak.

Finally, he said, “Go on with your chatter. Give me a few minutes to myself.”

Eva and the other guests immediately broke into conversation, laughing lightly, all the time watching Hitler out of the corners of their eyes. He appeared to be in bad sorts, as if the situational conference he had held earlier had not gone well. Karl and I had heard no shouting during the afternoon, but that didn’t mean anything. Hitler’s fury could have been silent, as deadly as a sniper. He might have even ordered executions. I looked casually at my lap and saw the black opal glinting up at me in the firelight.

Hitler leaned toward me and I jumped in my chair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice dropped so low I could barely hear him. “I don’t want the others to know, especially these bloodsuckers Eva brings along, but I prefer my guests to hers; if it wasn’t for Mussolini I think I would have no friends at all.” He looked at the fire, where the gigantic logs hissed and popped on the andirons. “This fireplace will be here as long as the Reich stands. It’s made from red marble from the Untersberg. Mussolini has given me a fireplace, at the Eagle’s Nest.”

I had never been invited to the Eagle’s Nest, an even higher mountain retreat constructed for Hitler by Martin Bormann. “The fireplace is beautiful, Führer.” I stopped, carefully analyzing what I would say next. Karl and I had tried various scenarios over the weeks, but we knew we couldn’t prepare for every possible situation. “You bear the weight of the world upon your shoulders.”

He turned to me and smiled. Any ferocity in his eyes vanished. “The burdens I carry are for the Reich. None other, and so it shall be until the day I die.” He tapped his fingers on the arms of the chair. A valet came with a silver tea service and placed it in the center of the large table that our chairs surrounded. “But there should be no talk tonight of war. Tell me, how are your wedding plans coming?”

I bowed my head, embarrassed by his question. “We’ve moved forward somewhat.” I hoped my answer would appease him.

He reached across the small table and grabbed my right hand. “Tell me the date, my child. I want to be part of it, for I know I’ve been instrumental in your match.”

My heart pounded in my ears. He had hold of my hand and with it the poison ring. My mind begged him not to look at it.

A log popped and a spark skittered across the fireplace rug. The valet scurried to the ember and swept it up quickly into a dustpan. I took this diversion as an opportunity to withdraw my hand. Then the valet returned and poured tea into a porcelain cup for Hitler. The Führer placed the drink on the small table next to us and looked at me expectantly.