Dark Keys of Uncomplacency

Chapter 3: Right of Way

"I must go, father!". Heinrich struck the kitchen table in a furious rage, causing his father's cane to fall over.

Unable to contain himself any longer, his fists trembled as he pleaded with his father. The idea of venturing out was the only way—in his mind—towards restitution for the loved ones he had lost.

"There's nothing for me here. I shall avenge my beloved Emma and dear friend Klaus, with my compositions. Their spirits will live on within the masterpieces I share with the world".

Wilhem Schröder firmly planted his gaze on the Deutsche marks his son Heinrich had placed on the table. He tightly clutched his pipe with his sweaty fingertips pressed against the fine, polished finish of the apparatus and his thumb hovering over the silver Iron Cross engraving.

Before his son could get another word in, Wilhem took a long hard inhale and blew out slowly, creating a wall of hemp-incensed smoke between Heinrich and himself.

The pitter-patter of rain could be heard from outside, remnants of a relentless storm that had continued on throughout the day and into the night.

"I have become unstable, I know that. I am not the same without Emma, my heart—stolen in the night. Taken from me! The assailant leaving nothing behind but that horrid writing on a frail piece of parchment".

Music should strike fire from the heart of man, and bring tears from the eyes of woman

"A crime of passion, without question", interrupted Wilhem, stroking his beard methodically, contemplating his son's next move.

Heinrich began to pace back and forth like a madman. "It baffles me how the authorities were unable to find any other evidence. No matter", he said, half holding back tears, "it is in the past now. The only way forward requires me to carry on with Klaus's work. He always had a way of converting simple chords and melodies into timeless journeys to be taken again and again to one's content".

His father stood up, with his cane gripped in his left hand, and placed his pipe on the table. He walked over to his son, hesitant to console him. His right hand finally rested upon Heinrich's right shoulder. "What are your intentions across the Atlantic?", he questioned. "There is an endless list of composers to collaborate with here in Europe. I don't understand the need to abandon your—"

"My mind is made up", Heinrich snapped. "I will leave on the 9th of December, aboard the Frisia, departing from Hamburg". He looked his father in the eye, with great conviction, his mind set on the journey west.

Wilhem knew at that very moment that his son's decision could not be deterred. He hobbled out of the dimly lit kitchen and into the foyer, which housed bookshelves against three walls of the room.

In the middle of the room sat a large mahogany chest with sterling silver on the edges. Wilhem lifted the corner of the tapestry on which the chest sat, with the end of his cane and revealed a rusty key. He unlocked the chest, lifted the lid, and stared down at a sea of Goldmarks.

Heinrich crept up behind father, watching how the gold reflected off the lid of the chest. Wilhem sensed his son's presence, as he knelt down beside the chest. He turned to him and said, "I know this can never compensate for your loss. But I know that with this small inheritance, you will find peace in any way you desire".

Heinrich knelt down next to his father, tears rolling down his face.

"All that I ask is that you never live your life with hatred—bolstered by this horrible tragedy. Hold on to the happy memories of Emma and Klaus and you shall make them both proud".