He understood his mother perfectly. She was thinking that she would no longer be matriarch here, no longer the mistress of her own house. And she was mourning her loss. She was thinking that she would happily kill this interloper. But Ilse Boden would be won over. Julius would make sure of that.

She would come around to his decision and accept it, because she had to; it was the way of the world. The wife replaces the mother.

Anyway, she would have something else to console herself. Something far more magnificent than being the great lady of this house and this village. An honour that would resonate down the ages and see her revered above all women.

She would become known as the mother of the second Führer.

*

Wilde peered down to the village. Lights were on in most of the houses and there was some sort of activity in the main street, though he couldn’t make out what it was. All he knew was that most of the villagers were outside their houses, some chatting, some with arms folded simply waiting and watching expectantly.

The Mercedes that had brought Julius Boden was parked outside the family home, but Wilde couldn’t see him or his mother or Lilly. Was Heck down there? Where else could he be? Wilde didn’t like the look of this one bit.

Leaning over the rock ledge, he realised it would be quite possible to get down to the village without using the mountain path. Some of the way down it would be a simple matter of sliding on snow and grass but there were a few short drops which would have to be negotiated with care or somehow avoided. He could move from tree to tree, using them to break his fall. Is that what Heck had done?

All Wilde could think was that the Dutchman must have seen Julius Boden arriving and decided to take matters into his own hands. It was not a good prospect.

These thoughts were interrupted.

Without warning, an explosive flash lit the sky.

Wilde’s gaze swerved from the centre of the village up to the gentle, snow-covered meadow as two great columns of fire rose into the air.

The whole area at the southern extremity of the village was illuminated by a pair of huge bonfires that must have been ignited with large quantities of petrol or some other accelerant. In other circumstances, the roar and brilliance of the inferno would have been a magnificent spectacle. For Wilde it was both alarming and mystifying. What was happening?

Next, he heard the beat of drums and saw more lights. A dozen torches, then a dozen more, all held aloft by marching men, goose-stepping down the slope towards the enormous bonfires, heading between them towards the village and the little lake.