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But Noemi’s response to the news had been a curt, ‘Why? What’s so glorious about war, which is the point about joining the army isn’t it?

Why is that better than the life you could have here?

And don’t tell me about honour and dying a hero’s death – I had my fill of that in Nuremberg.

’ The strength of that rebuttal had hurt too.

He adored her, he always would, but he was getting tired of her bad temper spoiling things.

So he wasn’t going to let it keep happening.

She’ll come round. Mother always does when she’s confused or worried by some of the things Father does.

It’s being reminded of the rally that’s upset her.

Once that’s done with for another year, we can stop getting all mixed up with each other and go back to being PascalandNoemi again, the way we’ve always been.

Pascal finished packing his case. He straightened his neck scarf and gave his belt buckle a final polish. And set off for Nuremberg sitting next to his father in the front of the car, feeling very much in charge of his life and very grown-up.

‘Why have you put them up there, instead of down here with the rest of us?’

Pascal hadn’t wanted to attend the town meeting. They were incredibly dull and taken up with issues he had absolutely no interest in. Disputes over a boundary wall. Changes in licence regulations. They were utterly boring. Besides, he was still spinning with excitement from the rally.

‘You’re exactly the kind of youngster we’re looking for.’

He couldn’t get General Kübler’s words out of his head; he didn’t want to.

The man was a legend in Bavaria. He’d become a soldier at nineteen and fought with distinction in the Great War.

Now he was in command of the newly created Gebirgsj?ger , the elite alpine mountain troops based in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, only an hour’s drive away from Unterwald.

Pascal had never met anyone more impressive, and – to his shock and delight – the general had been impressed by him.

‘Winning first place in your own climbing category was highly commendable, young man, but the way you helped your team to victory? That’s what I want to see. That’s what makes a true soldier.’

His father had nearly burst with pride. He’d actually been speechless when Kübler invited Pascal to the Garmisch barracks to learn more about the brigade.

Pascal had been floating in a bubble ever since, so the last thing he wanted to do was waste his time in a meeting, but Viktor had insisted that he put on his uniform and come.

There was, apparently, going to be an announcement he needed to hear.

Whatever it is, this is weird.

Normally the only person allowed on the stage was Viktor.

He liked the audience, and the lectern, to himself.

This time, however, there was a small group of people already seated on the platform, and none of them looked happy to be there.

Pascal scanned their faces, trying to work out the connection between them.

Herr Schuster the tailor was in the middle with his wife and two children, looking very uncomfortable.

On one side of them were Herr and Frau Fleck, an elderly couple who lived on the edge of town and were devoted to their garden.

They’d chased him and Noemi more than once as children when they’d tried to steal apples from the couple’s small orchard.

He couldn’t imagine why any of them needed to be on the stage, but when he asked Viktor for the second time why they were there, and who the empty seats were for, his father carried on ignoring the question.

He turned as the door opened instead and rubbed his hands together.

‘Excellent. The whole cast is here.’

He was off before Pascal could try and interrogate him again.

It took a moment for the penny to drop. For Pascal to realise the new arrivals Viktor was ushering towards the stage were Noemi and her parents.

To understand that Viktor had singled out all the town’s Jewish residents and separated them from the main audience.

He could finally see what was happening.

But what Pascal couldn’t fathom out was why.

These new laws are going to change everything – you mark my words. This is the step into the future we’ve been waiting for.

Viktor’s words on the journey home from Nuremberg suddenly swirled through his head and chased out the general.

They made no more sense now than they’d done then.

Pascal racked his brains, trying to remember exactly what his father had been talking about, but he couldn’t.

He’d barely been listening. He’d been too busy daydreaming about scaling impossibly high peaks in his alpine soldier’s regalia to pay much attention to Viktor.

Now the words sent a shiver round his neck.

What laws? And – if those were what the meeting was about – why did Noemi need to be on the stage in full view to be told about them?

‘What’s going on? What’s Father up to?’

Carina wouldn’t answer him either. Her lips were drawn into a tight line, and she kept rubbing at her wrist under her jacket. He turned away from her and tried to catch Noemi’s attention, but her head was down. She huddled closer to Hauke as Viktor walked to the podium.

Why is he grinning? Why does he look as if he’s got some hold over them they don’t know about?

Viktor’s expression mirrored the one he wore when the two of them were out hunting, and he had to stand over a wounded animal and deliver the killing shot. He’d always told Pascal that was an act of mercy, and Pascal had chosen to believe him…

But he always looked as if he was enjoying it.

He looked as if he was enjoying himself now.

By the time Pascal finally caught Noemi’s eye, his skin was crawling, but he couldn’t do anything except shake his head when she mouthed, ‘What’s going on?

’ at him. Then Viktor unhooked the dagger from his belt, clapped his hands for silence and tipped the world on its side.

‘Most of you will have seen the motto engraved on this dagger. And on the belt buckles worn by your sons. Blood and Honour . We could also add soil to that. Blood, honour and soil. Simple enough words, but what do they mean?’

Viktor waited, his stare jumping from face to face. A couple of people shuffled and coughed as if they thought they were expected to answer.

Viktor smiled at them. ‘I am sure many of you can tell me, but let me remind you anyway. What these words stand for is us.’ He paused to let the word us sink in and spread his arms out as if to pull them all into it.

‘Us. A pure German people. United by our blood which runs back through the centuries, and our love of the land which sustains us, determined to always uphold its honour.’

He paused again, put the dagger down and folded his hands together.

It took a moment for the audience to take the hint and burst into the loud applause he was waiting for.

The families on the stage behind him looked at each other and didn’t join in.

Viktor drew himself up, puffed out his chest and started addressing the room in a voice that belonged to a far more important man.

‘Thank you. But those aren’t my words; they are the principles our Führer has pledged himself to protect.

And now – at the recent party congress in Nuremberg, which I and my son were privileged to attend – he has set out the pathway for us all to follow.

The future he wants for us , his people, is coming.

We know how he will defend our honour: by rebuilding our once proud army and by training the next generation of heroes.

Now we – or at least I – know how he will defend our blood. ’

He paused again and turned to look at the confused faces behind him.

Hauke had reached for Noemi and Frieda’s hands at defend our blood .

Noemi’s eyes were fixed on Pascal’s. It was like Nuremberg all over again.

She looked helpless, and she clearly needed him, but Viktor had started talking, and there wasn’t time for Pascal to work out what, if anything, he could do.

‘As many of you are aware, we have a problem which goes to the heart of our country. A contagion which lost us the war and threatens to weaken our great nation again if it’s not isolated.

When I met him twelve years ago in Munich, and fought at his side, our Führer already knew the source of the vermin, and he was determined to banish the disease.

And now he has made the laws that will do it. ’

Pascal had stopped looking at Noemi. He couldn’t take his eyes off his father.

It was as if he’d transformed himself into Hitler himself.

His hands gripped the sides of the lectern, except when he was hammering a point home.

His voice was louder than the hall needed.

His tone was hectoring, belligerent. His cadence ran up and down, swelling and breaking in waves that transfixed his audience.

It was an impressive performance, clearly modelled on the speeches Viktor had attended in Nuremberg, but it was also deeply unsettling in a way Pascal didn’t understand.

‘Oh dear God, poor Frieda. And the rest. I begged him not to humiliate them like this, but he wouldn’t listen – he didn’t care.’

The sob in Carina’s voice whipped Pascal’s attention onto her. He’d never heard his mother criticise Viktor before, and that was unsettling too. He reached for her hand and held on tight to it as he turned back to the stage.

Noemi’s face was colourless. As Viktor pulled a clip of papers out of his pocket, her hand dropped from Hauke’s and her body froze.

I could stop this. I could stand up and tell him this isn’t the right way to do things. I could go onto the stage and lead them all down, tell him to finish whatever he has to say when they’re gone. He’d listen to me – I’m sure of it.