“You shoved back,” Rioba said, as if they were all kindergartners. “Not good with police. You not shove police.”
Father Wilhelm turned on Rioba, his eyes glowering. Jutta had never seen their priest this angry.
“This flag belongs to a country whose government is run by tyrants,” he shouted. “And your king was excommunicated. I too have my superiors to answer to.”
Captain Rioba slowly shook his head, then waved a dismissing hand at the other two carabinieri. They threw Florian and Hans menacing looks but obediently left the yard.
Rioba lifted his fez and smoothed his tight black-and-grey curls before fitting it back onto his head. “I not arrest you, padre, because you no bless bandiera,” he said, lifting a finger. “Or you shoving my men.” He had a warning gleam in his eye, and he leaned forward as if to whisper to Father Wilhelm, but he was loud enough for all to hear. “When I find what I look for, I will arrest you for the scuola.”
Father Wilhelm took a step back. “What school?”
Jutta clutched her throat. How did Rioba find out about the school?
The prefect cocked his head and gave the priest a patronizing smile. “Clandestino. The under-the-ground school. You, padre, are headmaster. I see in your eyes, you all know I right. You are a priest—you cannot lie.”
“Come with me,” Hans said. “We’ll take care of this later.”
“But—” Jutta started.
“Come with me,” Hans repeated. “All of you. There’s a wake to attend.”
Florian and Father Wilhelm obeyed first and turned towards the inn. Jutta put her hand on Hans’s arm and let him lead her away, but before they could take three steps, Captain Rioba whistled. As if they were dogs to call back. But they all turned in their tracks, like obedient animals. She could not look Rioba in the face.
Behind Jutta, Florian said, “What do you want?”
“Forget your attack on Italian police.” Rioba’s voice was grave. “You pay something to policemen, make hurt pride go away, we forget incident. But padre Wilhelm more serious. We find proof for scuola, he go away a long time. And everyone with him.” He sniffed, turned his back on them, and strode off, whistling a slow and mournful tune.
Hans’s arm flexed beneath Jutta’s hand. They all returned to the guesthouse wordlessly until they reached the back door.
“We have to find Frederick,” Florian said. “We have to get the warning out about the school and see if he can negotiate with Rioba.”
The hall and the Stube were crowded with people for the funeral. They pushed their way through, Jutta half greeting and half checking on the guests. She stopped to offer her condolences to the Planggers and left Father Wilhelm with them. When she and the others found Frederick, he was standing at the back of the Stube with that Italian schoolmistress and Katharina. Katharina, too, was always going to that teacher. What did those two possibly have in common?
“Frederick, we need you,” Jutta said and cast that Iris woman a look to let her know she was not welcome.
“Father Wilhelm is in trouble,” Florian said at Jutta’s elbow.
“They wanted him to consecrate an Italian flag, and he wouldn’t,” Jutta explained.
“It’s not about the flag,” Hans said. “The prefect—” He stopped, his eyes on the schoolmistress.
Iris slipped sideways between them with a quiet “Scuzi.”
“Frederick,” Jutta whispered when Iris was gone, “they found out about our school.”
“How?”
“Alois must have said something,” she told them. “I saw him talking to Captain Rioba out in the yard.”
Their eyes grazed her. Those brief looks of accusations were quickly veiled over with pity, then understanding. It gnawed at her.
Hans put a hand on her shoulder, his beard trembling as his jaw worked. He didn’t have to remind her. He had once suggested that sending Alois to Father Wilhelm could be too dangerous, but she had protested, even told him that he was being unkind. In truth, she had been desperate to send Alois to the lessons. Now their priest was in danger.
Frederick put his wineglass on the table behind him. “Where’s Father Wilhelm?”
Jutta pointed to where she had left him with the Planggers.
“Hans, Florian, come with me.” Frederick brushed by Jutta and stopped in front of the schoolmistress. He bent over her hand, clicked his heels together and looked apologetic. He went to Father Wilhelm.
Jutta waited until they were gone before turning to Katharina. “Frederick is, in all seriousness, courting that woman, isn’t he?”
“You mean Iris Bianchi?”
The schoolteacher was standing alone and out of place. She was a reed, with dark features, thin lips, and a head full of thick hair swept into a bun save for the stray strands that curled above her collarbone. She wore city clothing, the hem of her navy-blue dress outrageously high above the ankles, and she also wore stockings with a pair of patent leather shoes and heels. In the hinterlands!
“With skinny ankles like hers, that woman won’t last long. It’s her fault, you know. We wouldn’t have this problem if she weren’t here.”
“Iris could help. She does have a good heart.”
Jutta snorted. “So Frederick is courting her? I thought it was just a passing fancy. Thought he would get bored soon.”
“I don’t know what his intentions are. It’s none of my business.”
One was avoiding the details of a scandalous relationship, and the other was avoiding the details about Alois’s indiscretion. Which of them was the worst for it? Jutta locked eyes on Katharina’s. “Do you remember the day you needed an envelope? You were writing to the Ministry of Civil Engineering.”
Katharina looked away, that dark shadow passing over her face again.
“What was that about?” Jutta pressed. “You told me you would explain it later.”
“It was nothing,” Katharina said.
“Did you write to him? Did you take the letter to Iris Bianchi and tell her about Annamarie’s father?” She put
