legs that make them capable of performing the classical dressage movements, the airs above the ground. A thing of beauty.’
‘And what of the mares?’ Berthe asked. ‘I assume there are certain lines there as well.’
‘Very good, Frau Meisner. The mares are also important, or course. There are eighteen classic blood lines of those. Horses bred from these classic dynasties thus have two names, one for the sire and one for the dam.’
‘And you believe these classic lines have been corrupted?’
‘It is very probable. You see, about ten years ago the stud at Lipizza was worried about inbreeding which could weaken the stock. So they brought in a breeding company that had connections to other royal studs throughout Europe and even to the Near East.’
‘Premium Breeds.’
‘Exactly,’ Krensky said. ‘They had been supplying horses to the military for many years, and it was thought they would be the perfect candidate for this task. Their first addition was a pure blood gray Arabian stallion, Siglavy Primavera, said to have been bred in Syria like his famous ancestor. Then, after a few more years, came Tulipan Fantasca, a black Spanish stallion from Croatia. And finally there was Maestoso Redux, brought in from Hungary.’
‘This all seems perfectly above board thus far,’ Berthe said.
‘And so it did to the operators of the stud at Lipizza. Then I received a confidential message saying that these three horses were a sham. Their bona fides had been forged.’
‘An informant. Who?’
He shook his head. ‘The person identified himself – one assumes it is a man – as someone with a conscience and a patriot who does not want to see the symbol of this country ruined.’
‘An anonymous informant. That is the basis of these charges?’ Berthe was amazed that this affair had gotten so far with such flimsy evidence.
‘Not so anonymous. He had obviously been an insider to these dealings and gave me some information to go on. There were studs to contact in Syria, Croatia, and Hungary.’
‘Someone at Premium Breeds then.’
Another shake of the head. ‘Not necessarily. Premium used intermediary companies.’
‘Then investors such as Emile von Werthen can hardly be held responsible for any fraud.’
‘Everyone will be tarred by the same brush, Frau Meisner, when this comes out. I have contacted two of these studs and have found no authentication for the three stallions sold so dearly to the imperial stud. The one in Syria is rather more difficult to trace.’
‘And what do the directors of Premium Breeds have to say?’
‘Very little. The director, Herr Maximillian Hohewart, barely heard me out before excusing himself. According to him there is absolutely no proof of such fraud, and if there were, he blames it on the intermediary companies they hired to track down good breeds.’
‘But that is outrageous,’ Berthe blurted out. ‘If they were hired to find new breeding stock, the onus is on them, Premium Breeds and this Herr Hohewart, to vet the horses properly.’
‘One would think so,’ Krensky said with an understanding nod. ‘But this is Austria we are talking about, land of connections. Hohewart has powerful friends in the Imperial Ministry of Agriculture who oversee the Lipizzaner stud. I doubt that any of them would care to admit to corrupting the bloodline of this famous breed. The only one who has seemed to care thus far is the unfortunate Captain Putter. After I spoke with him, he seemed shaken to his very core.’
‘You interviewed the riding master? When?’
‘Just two days ago. Monday. I asked him if he had noticed anything not quite right about the foals sired by any of the three new breeding stallions. His face went white as the proverbial sheet.’
Eight
The telephone was jingling as Berthe returned to the flat on Josefstädterstrasse. Frau Blatschky was just coming out of the kitchen to answer the call, followed by Frieda, as Berthe picked up the receiver.
Frieda
‘And what of the mares?’ Berthe asked. ‘I assume there are certain lines there as well.’
‘Very good, Frau Meisner. The mares are also important, or course. There are eighteen classic blood lines of those. Horses bred from these classic dynasties thus have two names, one for the sire and one for the dam.’
‘And you believe these classic lines have been corrupted?’
‘It is very probable. You see, about ten years ago the stud at Lipizza was worried about inbreeding which could weaken the stock. So they brought in a breeding company that had connections to other royal studs throughout Europe and even to the Near East.’
‘Premium Breeds.’
‘Exactly,’ Krensky said. ‘They had been supplying horses to the military for many years, and it was thought they would be the perfect candidate for this task. Their first addition was a pure blood gray Arabian stallion, Siglavy Primavera, said to have been bred in Syria like his famous ancestor. Then, after a few more years, came Tulipan Fantasca, a black Spanish stallion from Croatia. And finally there was Maestoso Redux, brought in from Hungary.’
‘This all seems perfectly above board thus far,’ Berthe said.
‘And so it did to the operators of the stud at Lipizza. Then I received a confidential message saying that these three horses were a sham. Their bona fides had been forged.’
‘An informant. Who?’
He shook his head. ‘The person identified himself – one assumes it is a man – as someone with a conscience and a patriot who does not want to see the symbol of this country ruined.’
‘An anonymous informant. That is the basis of these charges?’ Berthe was amazed that this affair had gotten so far with such flimsy evidence.
‘Not so anonymous. He had obviously been an insider to these dealings and gave me some information to go on. There were studs to contact in Syria, Croatia, and Hungary.’
‘Someone at Premium Breeds then.’
Another shake of the head. ‘Not necessarily. Premium used intermediary companies.’
‘Then investors such as Emile von Werthen can hardly be held responsible for any fraud.’
‘Everyone will be tarred by the same brush, Frau Meisner, when this comes out. I have contacted two of these studs and have found no authentication for the three stallions sold so dearly to the imperial stud. The one in Syria is rather more difficult to trace.’
‘And what do the directors of Premium Breeds have to say?’
‘Very little. The director, Herr Maximillian Hohewart, barely heard me out before excusing himself. According to him there is absolutely no proof of such fraud, and if there were, he blames it on the intermediary companies they hired to track down good breeds.’
‘But that is outrageous,’ Berthe blurted out. ‘If they were hired to find new breeding stock, the onus is on them, Premium Breeds and this Herr Hohewart, to vet the horses properly.’
‘One would think so,’ Krensky said with an understanding nod. ‘But this is Austria we are talking about, land of connections. Hohewart has powerful friends in the Imperial Ministry of Agriculture who oversee the Lipizzaner stud. I doubt that any of them would care to admit to corrupting the bloodline of this famous breed. The only one who has seemed to care thus far is the unfortunate Captain Putter. After I spoke with him, he seemed shaken to his very core.’
‘You interviewed the riding master? When?’
‘Just two days ago. Monday. I asked him if he had noticed anything not quite right about the foals sired by any of the three new breeding stallions. His face went white as the proverbial sheet.’
Eight
The telephone was jingling as Berthe returned to the flat on Josefstädterstrasse. Frau Blatschky was just coming out of the kitchen to answer the call, followed by Frieda, as Berthe picked up the receiver.
Frieda
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