“Wait,” Florian finally said. “They’re allowing a Tyrolean to take office? Do I have this right? I mean, Toni was joking, of course, but you two—you’re serious?”
Georg nodded. “There’s been an amendment—”
Toni Ritsch slapped the tabletop. “What did I tell you? The German League is working in our favour! This is just the beginning!”
Hans scratched his beard. “Yeah, but…” He frowned. “Klaus Blech? You are the only ones who still call him by his Tyrolean name. It’s Foglio now, remember? He’s a Fascist. He’s got his hands so deep in that—”
Katharina was taken aback. Hans rarely spoke badly of anyone. In fact, she could not recall him saying anything negative about anyone.
Martin Noggler scowled. “Blech, Foglio, whatever he wants to be called, is not going to care about whether the reservoir gets built. That’s for sure. Heard about this when I got back into town, and that turns things around for me.”
“How’s that?” Toni challenged. “What does that change for you, Martin?”
The two men glared at one another, and Katharina felt the animosity between them.
“What is it with you two?” she asked.
Toni looked up and nodded at his father as if the two of them shared some sort of knowledge nobody else had and were now about to lay it open. “That engineer? The one who spoke at the town hall meeting last spring?”
“Yes,” Florian said. “Stefano Accosi is his name. Go on.”
Toni indicated Martin with his shoulder. “Seems he was back and nosing about here. Talked to people we know who have been soft on the Italians.”
Dr Hanny shifted in his seat. “Now, hold on there—”
“He talked to everyone, Toni,” Martin Noggler interjected. “Everyone he could get to.”
“He didn’t talk to us,” Florian said.
Of course he had not. Angelo had told Katharina directly at the Post Inn, work with us or else. It had been loud and clear.
Toni continued as if he had not heard them. “Next thing we know, Anton Federspiel’s brother sells his land north of Reschen, right where the Etsch runs through.”
Thomas, his son, was staring at him. “You gonna tell ’em?”
Martin Noggler’s neck flushed pink.
Toni grunted. “He talk to you, Martin? I asked if he talked to you, this Accosi!” He leaned across the table where Martin sat. “You sell out to the Fascists?”
Georg waved a hand between them. “Wait. Hold on, Toni. There’s something more important—”
“No, Mayor!” Toni glared at Martin. “I want to know Noggler’s answer. Did you sell out?”
Martin finally looked up at him, his blue eyes blazing, copper hair dark against the deep red of his face. “I did not.” He punctuated each word. “He came to me with an offer, but I did not.”
“You thought about it,” Thomas accused.
Martin glared at him, and Katharina recognised great disappointment. Thomas had betrayed his father at this table.
“But,” Martin stressed. “I did not. You?”
Thomas muttered something, and Toni jerked his head at the young man.
“What? What did you say?”
“I won’t,” Thomas said into his chest.
“Goddamn it,” Toni cried. “Who else? Who else at this table is thinking about selling out to the Walscher?”
Katharina sprang from the bench. “Toni!”
Florian joined her. “That’s enough. You’re all guests in my house, and I won’t have this under our roof.”
Toni nodded, lips pressed into a taut scowl.
“The ministry,” Katharina said, “wants us working together and working against the privatisation of the reservoir. I was assured that everything would be done to protect our homes if the reservoir remains in the hands of the government. Martin—” She lay her hand out on the table. “You should do what’s best for you and your family. Do what you need to do.”
Georg scoffed and Dr Hanny cleared his throat.
“You have whose word?” Karl Spinner studied her. “Huh, Katharina? Who gave you their word?”
Katharina stiffened, and Florian said, “My wife is simply saying that we need to be one common force and work together against anyone who wants our land.”
“That’s not what she said,” Thomas Noggler said. “She just told my father to watch out for his own interests.”
“Work with the Walscher,” Kaspar Ritsch sneered. Like his son, his obvious stance was with the Germans, with Hitler. “With Fascists! How do you like that?”
Dr Hanny leaned in. “It’s an idea, to work with the ministry. To have discussions. And we are open to ideas. The problem is, I believe that Klaus Foglio—let’s call him what he wants to be called—is just a marionette for Rioba, for Ghirardelli. It’s just a show. It’s best if we keep him out of it. Georg and I have another proposition.”
“That being?” Toni asked.
“That being the German League,” Georg said. He lay a hand on Martin Noggler’s shoulder. “Martin’s not selling his land. Neither is Thomas. Martin’s come to us with news from up north.”
Toni and Kaspar looked as if they had just won a match. “Finally,” Toni said. “Someone’s got some sense.”
“The German League,” Hans muttered. “With the NSDP backing it.”
Florian whistled softly. “It’s a dilemma but…” He glanced at Katharina.
She stood and grabbed two mugs off the table—Toni’s and Kaspar’s—as if to refill them, but she just wanted to get away. The two of them did not need any more refreshments from her either way.
Behind her, Dr Hanny said, “There is a movement to the north, a secessionist movement that is very well organised and wants to help us… Martin knows some of the people through family.”
Karl Spinner caught Katharina’s eye when she turned to mix the mulled wine on the stove—also not necessary—and stood. He came with a pipe in hand and stepped over to Katharina and handed her his empty mug.
“Have you got a match?” he asked,
