Munich Signature by Bodie Thoene, Brock Thoene

for him all the same. The Bach Suites were his favorite. Little happy dances. And always after hearing them, he was cheered.
    “It just must be the cello for you, eh?” Elisa often teased. “You will not content yourself with a violin, which I can play fairly well?”
    Each time Charles shook his head from side to side. No. The violin would not do. Somehow the old cello had become a voice for him. A prayer. A hope. He was never quite so lonely after she played. He could close his eyes and think of Louis sitting next to him in that little room beneath the stage in Vienna. He could remember Leah’s strong, gentle fingers as she worked to teach him the simple melodies. When he was well enough to sit up, Charles determined he would try to play Vitorio himself. Them Elisa could play along with him on the violin.
    Elisa’s clear, bright voice preceded her into the room. “How is our boy?” She swept in, shining and beautiful in a long white gown. She looked like an angel, Charles thought. Very pretty. Even a boy almost six could see that.
    “Better!” Murphy exclaimed. “Almost well, says the doctor.”
    Elisa smiled at Charles and bent to kiss his forehead and smooth his tousled hair back. Charles wanted to ask her where she was going all dressed up. Murphy might look like a waiter, but she looked like a countess or a queen in a picture book. He wished she would tell him where they were going.
    “My strong brave Charles,” she whispered. “Such a good patient.”
    She was so beautiful that Charles decided he would marry her when he grew up. Herr Murphy would not mind, he reasoned. He and Murphy got along very well together.
    Elisa spoke in Czech to the doctor. They always did that when they did not want Charles to understand, and he hated the exclusion. The doctor smiled and waved a farewell, and Elisa turned her attention to Murphy’s crooked bow tie.
    “Darling,” she said, kissing Murphy on the chin, “you look as if you tried to hang yourself.”
    “I did it this way on purpose.” Murphy kissed her lips and pulled her close to him. “So I could get you like this.” He laughed at her playful disapproval. They had forgotten Charles for a moment. Charles liked it when they forgot he was watching. He did not like it when they remembered and stepped out of the room to continue their grown-up play.
    “Murphy!” Elisa scolded. “Not in front—”
    “Oh.” The self-conscious smile appeared. “Right.” Murphy let her go and said good night to Charles, tousling his blond hair and adding how happy he was that his little friend felt so much better.
    One last kiss from Elisa on his forehead and then they stepped out of the room, leaving Charles alone to wonder what it was all about.
    ***
     
    As the last rays of sunlight reflected on the tall spires of Hradcany Castle, forty servants completed the monumental task of lighting six thousand candles on the crystal chandeliers of the great reception room.
    On the cobbles of the square below, pedestrians looked up toward the shining windows and commented as the bulbs of dozens of news cameras popped, sending small explosions of light into the darkness. Musicians entered the vast building through a side entrance lined with burly, grim-faced security guards. The guards had been recently chosen from the finest and strongest officers in the Czech Army. They towered over the tiny president and were prepared to offer their own lives so that what had happened at the National Theatre would not be repeated. President Beneš now walked and talked and slept and ate and worked behind a human wall that protected him against the menace of Nazi and Sudetenland Germans who wished him dead and plotted his end.
    Tonight the president of the most enlightened democracy in Europe held a celebration honoring the man and woman who had risked their lives to save his. But even on this joyous occasion, the specter of fear huddled behind every door and made itself felt as handbags and