A gentleman might have ensured that his castle was smaller and less ostentatious in its decoration than his host’s pride and joy. But, like some of his descendants, Gustav was no gentleman. He built a monument to himself that matched his character. It was undeniably impressive, even magnificent. Yet it was monumental, almost bullying in its severity.

Gerhard and Saffron were staying at Schloss Meerbach while he saw to his family business. The first item on the agenda was a family meeting, held around a table in the library. Ceiling-high, black oak bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, unopened for decades, ran along the two long walls of the rectangular room. At the far end, mullioned windows provided views across wooded hillsides to the lake, while the fourth wall was dominated by a massive stone fireplace, surrounded by the stuffed hunting trophies, displays of weaponry and armour, and portraits of stern, glowering von Meerbach men that were the typical ornaments throughout the castle.

As she looked around the table, Saffron paid little attention to these mementoes of the past. She was more interested in the men and women around her. To Saffron’s right sat Gerhard’s mother Alatha. She had been bullied and abused by both her husband Otto and her older son Konrad, but retained her dignity. She was over eighty, and the suffering she had endured could be seen on the lines traced across her graceful, fine-boned features. Yet she somehow possessed an air of serenity as if, after so many years of stormy weather, she had finally found safe harbour and calm waters.

The same could not be said of the woman seated opposite Alatha. Trudi von Meerbach, the first wife of Gerhard’s older brother Konrad, exuded bitterness and anger. It made her a difficult woman to be around, but Saffron could understand why Trudi was emotionally scarred. Barely a decade had passed since Konrad had told her that he was divorcing her on his terms and that if she resisted she would, in his words, ‘Spend the few remaining days of your life in a slave-labour camp.’

Saffron’s eyes came to rest on a tall, elegant, immaculately dressed man, seated opposite her, whose silver hair only added to his handsome dignity. He smiled at her and she was about to speak to him when Gerhard, seated at the head of the table, rose to his feet.

‘Good evening,’ he said. ‘As you know, I was for some time unable to contribute to the management of the Meerbach Motor Works. That is why, three years ago, before the Federal Republic of Germany came into being, I asked Isidore Solomons to become our Chief Executive Officer. For me, it was an easy decision. I trusted Isidore completely and I knew he had an unmatched understanding of our family’s portfolio. But for him, the situation was not so simple. Our family has, in the past, treated him appallingly, so he had every reason to refuse my invitation. But he did not and I am profoundly grateful to him for that. So now let me hand over to a man I am proud to call my friend – Isidore.’