War Cry

War Cry
Wilbur Smith

David Churchill

‘That time is upon us. I can feel it coming. That evil barbarian will not be satisfied until he has engulfed the whole world in war and death. I fear for us all.’In a triumphant return to his much-loved Courtney series, Wilbur Smith introduces us to the bravest new member of the famed family, Saffron Courtney.Saffron grows up on a sprawling Kenyan estate, under the watchful eye of her father, prominent businessman and distinguished war veteran Leon Courtney. Her childhood is idyllic, until a family tragedy forces her to grow up much faster than necessary. As she grows into a spirited teenager, her thirst for knowledge and adventure leads her to England, where she finds herself inevitably drawn into the heart of the gathering storm in the lead up to World War II.Gerhard von Meerbach is the privileged and idealistic younger brother of Konrad von Meerbach, heir to an industrial fortune, and vocal supporter of the Nazi Party. Gerhard struggles to stay true to his principles in an increasingly cruel world. His friendship with a Jewish man places him in danger, and forces him to take a stand against the forces of evil that have overtaken his country and his family. But, unknown to him, he is caught in a trap that could cost him everything he holds dear.As the Second World War looms over them all, Saffron and Gerhard’s worlds will collide – but will there be more to unite them than tear them apart?A love story in the time of heroes, War Cry is the latest breath-taking episode in Wilbur Smith’s epic account of one beloved family.

Copyright (#ulink_66b0c349-bc43-5203-9529-3a3f93abf770)

HarperCollinsPublishers

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Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2017

Copyright © Orion Mintaka (UK) Ltd 2017

Cover layout design by Claire Ward © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017 Cover photographs © Collaboration J.S. except www.Shutterstock.com (http://www.Shutterstock.com) (Brandenburg Gate).

Wilbur Smith asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on historical figures, are the work of the author’s imagination.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books

Source ISBN: 9780007535897

Ebook Edition © 2017 ISBN: 9780007535880

Version: 2018-10-25

Dedication (#ulink_cf123bf1-c4ef-5553-9996-204f1380033f)

I dedicate this book War Cry to my wife Mokhiniso who has been my total joy and inspiration over these last many decades of my life and all those others yet to come. I love you, my Fireball.

Contents

Cover (#ubccb492f-6620-5152-835b-5c884b4a52bd)

Title Page (#ub5f172f5-e2fb-5b5e-abba-9ddb78eaa288)

Copyright (#uc082d5a6-ba91-5357-9b7a-367a388bf835)

Dedication (#u92bfcf65-b721-5f13-830a-fa5b7569c3c7)

Two months had passed since … (#ued7a838e-a766-5c29-843c-69bee6d4ad4c)

Leon Courtney sank into the welcome … (#ub7d75972-e1f4-5219-b6c5-13817e4cb059)

Three days before Christmas, as they were … (#litres_trial_promo)

When Saffron reached him they did not … (#litres_trial_promo)

Frescobaldi knew he had another magazine … (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by Wilbur Smith (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Two months had passed since war had been declared and the autumn sun that shone down from the clear blue skies over Bavaria was so glorious that it seemed to cry out for beer to be drunk and songs to be sung in hearty, joyful voices. But the Oktoberfest had been cancelled and the Double Phaeton limousine proceeding up the short drive of the villa in Grünwald, just outside Munich, bore tidings that were anything but joyous.

The car pulled to a halt. Its chauffeur opened the passenger door to allow a distinguished gentleman in his late sixties to disembark and a uniformed butler admitted him into the house. A moment later, Athala, Countess of Meerburg, looked up as the family lawyer Viktor Solomons was shown into the drawing room. His hair and beard might now be silver and his stride was less vigorous than it had once been, but the impeccable tailoring of his suit, the gleaming white of his perfectly starched collar and the flawless shine of his shoes reflected a mind that was still as precise, as sharp and as insightful as ever.

Solomons stopped in front of Athala’s chair, gave a respectful little nod of the head and said, ‘Good morning, Countess.’

His mood seemed subdued, but that was only to be expected, Athala reminded herself. Solomons’s beloved son Isidore was away at the front. No parent could ever be light-hearted knowing that their child’s very survival now lay at the mercy of the gods of war.

‘Good morning, Viktor, what an unexpected pleasure to see you. Do please sit down.’ Athala extended a dainty hand towards the chair opposite her. Then she turned her attention towards the butler who had shown the guest in and was now awaiting further instruction. ‘Some coffee, please Braun, for Herr Rechtsanwalt Solomons. Would you like some cake, Viktor? A little strudel, perhaps?’

‘No thank you, Countess.’

There was a sombre tone to Solomons’s voice, Athala realized, and he seemed uncharacteristically reluctant to look her in the eye. He has bad news, she thought. Is it the boys? Has something happened to one of them?

She told herself to remain calm. It would not do to betray one’s fears, especially not while a servant was still in the room. ‘That will be all, Braun,’ she said.

The butler departed. Athala felt a sudden desire to postpone the bad tidings for just a few seconds. ‘Tell me, how is Isidore getting on? I hope he’s safe and well.’

‘Oh yes, very well thank you, Countess,’ Viktor replied, with a distracted air, as though his mind was not fully engaged. But he took such pride in his beloved son that he could not resist adding, ‘You know, Isidore’s division is commanded by Crown Prince Wilhelm himself. Imagine that! We received a letter from him just last week to say that he has already seen his first action. Apparently, his major declared that he conducted himself admirably under fire.’

‘I’m sure he did. Isidore is a fine young man. Now … what is it, Viktor, why are you here?’

Solomons hesitated a second to gather his thoughts and then sighed, ‘I fear there is no other way of saying this, Countess. The War Office in Berlin informed me today that your husband, Graf Otto von Meerbach, is dead. General von Falkenhayn felt that it was better that you should hear the news from someone you knew, than simply receive a telegram message, or a visit from an unknown officer.’

Athala slumped back against her chair, eyes closed, unable to say a word.

‘I know this must be very distressing,’ Solomons went on, but distress was actually the last thing on her mind. Her overwhelming feeling was one of relief. Nothing had happened to her sons. And finally, after all these years, she was free. There was nothing that her husband could do to hurt her any more.

Athala controlled herself. She had been trained from her earliest girlhood to compose her fine, porcelain features into an image of calm, aristocratic elegance, no matter what the circumstances. It was now second nature to hide her true feelings behind that mask, just as the waters of a pond cover the constantly paddling feet that enable a swan to glide with such apparent ease across its glittering surface.

‘How did he die?’ she asked.

‘In an air crash. I have been informed that His Excellency was engaged in a mission of the greatest importance to the German Empire. Its details are classified, but I am authorized to inform you that the crash occurred over British East Africa. The Count was flying aboard his magnificent new airship the Assegai. This was her maiden voyage.’