“A brotherhood,” Sven said.
“A super-union,” Horst agreed. “We need a name for ourselves and a figurehead.”
Gudrun frowned. “The Reich Reform Commission?”
“I’d have thought something more striking,” Horst said. “The Valkyries, perhaps. And their leader, Sigrún.”
“That might work,” Gudrun said, thoughtfully.
“You’d be Sigrún,” Horst told her. There were few Germans alive who wouldn’t be aware of the name’s origins. They’d all been forced to study the Norse myths in school. “We’d issue proclamations in your name, using them to create an impression of vast numbers – and, in doing so, make them true.”
“That would tell the government that our leader was a girl,” Sven objected.
“They’d be unlikely to believe it,” Horst assured him. “Why would they believe it? They don’t think much of women.”
“My mother is likely to take advantage of that,” Hilde observed. “She’s already starting new groups.”
“We need to work on women’s rights too,” Gudrun said. “Get all of the women on our side.”
Horst nodded. “Shall we work on the first proclamation?”
He’d been told, years ago, that a committee was the only animal in existence with multiple bodies and no brain. It wasn’t something he’d really understood until the four of them had put their heads together and drafted out the first set of demands: free elections, freedom of speech, freedom of the press, freedom of association, an end to the war in South Africa and, above all, an end to the climate of fear. Horst had to admit, as he read the prelude, that Gudrun knew how to turn a phrase. She might lack the polish of the writers who wrote the regime’s propaganda, but that only made it stronger. Her words came from the heart.
“Upload it onto the network,” Gudrun said, when they were finally finished. “And, for God’s sake, don’t let any of the spies see you typing it into the computer.”
“We’ll need to print out more leaflets too,” Horst observed. “And then start scattering them around the city.”
“Maybe we can hide them around the university,” Sven said, “with notes asking the finders to hand them out. They wouldn’t have any direct link to us if they got caught.”
“True,” Horst said. “But be careful this time, understand. No fingerprints!”
He threw a look at Gudrun as Sven and Hilde left the room, motioning for her to stay. She looked oddly reluctant – he wondered if she was still embarrassed about the kiss – but remained seated, studying her fingertips as if they were the most fascinating thing in the universe. Horst checked the door, then sat down next to her. If anyone glanced inside, they’d hopefully assume that Horst and Gudrun had found a private place for some alone time. He just hoped the spies didn’t see them together.
“Konrad’s father is involved with the unions,” he said, flatly.
Gudrun’s eyes went wide. “Are you sure?”
“I have a… friend who’s just joined up,” Horst lied. In reality, his handler had told him that Volker Schulze had already been tagged as a union leader by the SS – and ordered Horst to watch for anyone at the university who might have a connection to him. “Volker Schulze may not be the sole leader, but he’s definitely involved. Tell me… your engagement to Konrad …”
“Is over,” Gudrun said, bitterly. “His father terminated it.”
Horst hesitated, unsure what to say. He liked Gudrun – if things had been different, perhaps he would have courted her himself. And there had been that kiss… the nasty part of his mind was almost tempted to applaud. But Gudrun had loved Konrad and he hadn’t deserved to wind up a cripple, alone and helplessly dependent on a life support machine. She certainly didn’t deserve to lose her boyfriend so casually, to have her relationship dismissed by his father. The only consolation was that it wasn’t a declaration that she wasn’t suitable as a prospective bride.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. He practically swallowed his tongue to keep from pointing out that Gudrun and Konrad would never have been able to have a normal life together. A young man as badly wounded as Konrad was nothing more than a drain on the Reich. Some bean-counting bureaucrat who had never met him would order the life support turned off, sooner or later. “But I need to know. Was your engagement ever formalised?”
“Not really,” Gudrun admitted, after a moment. “We’d exchanged letters, of course, but we hadn’t registered the engagement.”
Horst let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “So there’s nothing formal to tie you to Konrad?”
“No,” Gudrun said, miserably. She looked up, suddenly. “Do you think they might draw a line between myself and Konrad’s father?”
“It’s a possibility,” Horst admitted. He’d gone through the files as thoroughly as he dared, but he hadn’t been able to tell if anyone had reported an intruder visiting Konrad’s bed. The SS already believed that the leaflets had come from the university; if they knew about Gudrun and Konrad, they’d certainly have grounds for hauling Gudrun into the RSHA for a long interrogation session. “You need to consider the prospect of someone asking you a few questions.”
“Konrad wasn’t a student,” Gudrun objected.
“They know the leaflets came out of the university,” Horst said. He covered for his slip instantly. “There wouldn’t be so many spies in the building if they didn’t know. They must have figured out that the professor they arrested was innocent – or, at least, that he had nothing to do with the leaflets.”
Gudrun snorted, rather sourly. Horst understood. He had no idea who’d started the rumours about the arrested professor sleeping with some of his students, but they just wouldn’t go away. It was a standard tactic – undermining the professor’s reputation to make it harder for anyone to defend him – and it seemed to be working. The students were still discussing the leaflets, but very few of them still respected the professor.
“I’ll watch myself,” Gudrun assured him, finally. “And I won’t tell them anything.”
“Just stick to the basics,” Horst said. He had no illusions. If the SS had good reason to link Gudrun to the leaflets – to the Valkyries – it was unlikely she would be able to hold out for long. There were plenty of ways to make someone suffer without ever laying a finger on them. “And try to say as little as possible when they ask questions.”
“I’ll try,” Gudrun said. She took a nervous breath. “Do your parents think you should get married?”
Horst blinked in surprise. “That’s… an odd question,” he said, finally. “They do want me to find a nice girl and move back east, but I don’t think I want to give them the satisfaction.”
Gudrun looked up at him. “Why not?”
“The east… is very strict,” Horst said, carefully. “If you were born there, you’d probably be a farmwife. You would live and die on the farms, while the menfolk go off to war or man the ramparts against terrorists. There is very little to do beyond working on the farms. I was lucky – very lucky – that I was able to sit for the exams.”
“I know,” Gudrun said.
“I might be expected to marry two women,” Horst said. “Or more. I knew men who had three or four wives, women who’d been married before only to have their husbands killed on deployment. I’d bring up a flock of children and watch the girls marry soldiers and the boys march off to war. And heaven help anyone who asked questions.”
“You make it sound awful,” Gudrun said, after a moment.