The Secret of Altamura

Chapter 7

Colonel Anselm Bernhard stood in the piazza in front of the gaping doors of the basilica. His hands rolled into fists rested lightly on the leather belt of his uniform. His short-cropped blond hair, clean shaven face, and icy blue eyes topped a muscular and athletic body.

Bernhard"s stance and posture reflected the imperialism that his government wanted to impose on the world. He wore his uniform with pride; the razor sharp creases in his pants and the stiff material of the jacket signaled his exceptionality. That image was important for him to display to the soldiers in his command but also to the people of the cities and towns he laid siege to.

Facing the stone edifice of the Basilica di San Marco, Bernhard was clearly enjoying his latest conquest. The mist from the night before had cleared, leaving cool, crisp air on a pleasantly limpid morning. The colonel nodded his head at the basilica, as if he were engaging the great church in a silent conversation, when a young German officer walked up behind him.

“Sir, excuse me, but I have news you will want to hear… before others hear it, no doubt.”

“Did you know, Hilgendorf,” said Bernhard, “that Napoleon conquered this city?” Ignoring the young officer, he remained fixated on the glittering façade of the Basilica di San Marco. “He stole vast art collections from the weak Italians groveling at his feet, even these,” as he pointed up to the magnificent bronze horses at the apex of the church"s entrance.

“He stole the horses of St. Mark"s and sent them to his native Paris with the rest of the booty he had captured from conquered lands -- just as the soldiers of the Third Reich will do today, to glorify the German Empire.”

Hilgendorf knew about Napoleon"s theft of the horses. He also knew that Italy had recovered them from France and that Napoleon was not a native Parisian but was born and raised in Corsica.

The lieutenant, who knew his commander"s moods, saw that Bernhard was reveling in fantasies of his own glorification, so correcting his historical musings would be unwise. Hilgendorf was well trained and knew that, in the German army, commanders like Bernhard were rewarded for being ruthless and uncompromising, so contradicting the decorated war veteran"s grasp of history would be risky.

Hilgendorf, though an underling, had achieved a high level of education before entering service to the Third Reich in 1939 and he had mastered several foreign languages in the process. The superior officer standing before him had several times dismissed this accomplishment.

“Only German will be necessary in the future,” Bernhard was quick to remind him.

The young lieutenant was taller and leaner than his muscular colonel and kept his light brown hair long enough to comb across the tops of his ears. He had romantic dreams of someday winning a beautiful bride, and in his youth had followed current fashions. Although now he maintained the clean shaven look German commanders encouraged, he still could have passed for a university student.

After a few more moments studying the bronze horses, Bernhard turned his head slowly and caught the young officer"s eye. The colonel was not accustomed to being approached with an announcement that sounded like a warning.

“Well?” he asked.

“Alessia was found this morning hanging by her neck outside the hotel. She was dangling from the window, tied to a series of knotted sheets.” Hilgendorf paused to give his superior time to digest the news but, seeing no reaction, he continued.

“She was hoisted back into the room, her face was blue, and it was obvious that her neck was broken.”

Still no reaction. Hilgendorf wondered whether Bernhard"s slow response reflected some concern.

“What would you like me to do, sir?”

“Do?” Bernhard uttered matter-of-factly. “What should we do when some stupid girl hangs herself? What business is it of mine?”

The young officer turned to leave, but then halted at the sound of his name.

“Hilgendorf,” Bernhard called out. “Go to her room and retrieve the gold necklace with the sapphires.”

After the young officer departed, the older man took an elegant black leather notebook from his uniform pocket, opened it to a marked page and made some notes. Then he slipped the notebook back into his pocket and returned to gaze on the magnificent basilica, a symbol of the city he had just occupied for the Third Reich.