R O T H S C H I L D
The Rothschild family, the family which remains the biggest mystery in the world — as conspiracy theorists stated — is a family empire that currently has three key players: the brothers Thomas, Arthur, and John. The history of this family goes way back to the 18th century, whereas Rothschild was a wealthy Jewish family descending from Mayer Amschel Rothschild (1744–1812). The family was elevated to noble rank in the Holy Roman Empire and the United Kingdom. During the 19th century, the Rothschild family possessed the largest private fortune in the world, as well as the largest private fortune in modern world history. Rothschild family banking businesses pioneered international high finance during the industrialisation of Europe, and ever since they have branched out their business to four countries: Austria, England, and Naples, as well as France. The Rothschild banking family of the United Kingdom was founded in 1798 by Nathan Mayer Rothschild (1777–1836), who first settled in Manchester but then moved to London. The first French branch was that of James Mayer de Rothschild (1792–1868), known as “James”, who established de Rothschild Frères in Paris. In Vienna, Salomon Mayer Rothschild established a bank in the 1820s and the Austrian family had vast wealth and position. In the early 19th century, the Rothschild family of Naples built up close relations with the Holy See, and the association between the family and the Vatican continued into the 20th century. The family’s wealth was divided among various descendants, and today their interests cover a diverse range of fields, including financial services, real estate, mining, energy, mixed farming, wine-making and nonprofits.
R O U S S E A U
The first French branch was that of James Mayer de Rothschild (1792–1868), known as “James”, who established de Rothschild Frères in Paris. Entering the 19th century, due to the lack of patriarchs in the family, Rothschild dynasty gradually branched itself into House of Rousseau, House of Rochechouart, and House of De la Roche.
A Tale of Five Brothers
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The Rousseau’s abode is in the middle of a peaceful, charming hill-top village. One day in the Autumn, the five brothers decided to go fishing.
"Damn it, we haven't caught a thing all morning!"
"Be patient, Tris!" Raphael said. "They don't just go leaping for the hook."
"The bait's all wrong."
"It's a bad day for them," Raphael said. "It's too sunny, and the water's too high."
"They like something interesting to chase. If you'd let me make the bait, we would have had enough for supper by now."
"Tris, they're fish, not cats," Sieghart said. "Cats like interesting things to chase. Fish like bugs to eat."
"Fish don't eat colorful wooden toys, Tris," Raphael said, "And Sieg ties the best flies. Anyway, it's not his fault they're not biting. The water's too high"
Antoine pulled in his line, faster than Tristan did. "Alright, guys. Whatever the reason, they're not biting, and I'm bored. Boy next-door said that the old tree upriver got struck by lightning last night. Want to go see?"
"Wait, you're on speaking terms with boy next-door?" Tristan asked incredulously.
"Why shouldn't I be?"
"Guess he didn't catch you with his sister behind the stable."
"You little wanker!" Antoine rounded on Adrian. "What did you do, run and tell everyone straight away?"
"Oy!" Adrian’s face burned, partly with indignation and partly with discomfort at his reaction to what he had seen. "I would never!"
By now, everyone was laughing but Antoine. "He didn't have to," Sieghart said as he set his rod down carefully in the wet grass next to the tackle box.
"You're not exactly sneaky. Keep going the way you are, and he will turn you into fish food," Raphael elaborated.
"I can handle him," Antoine said. "He's big, but he's got a glass jaw."
"How do you know?" Adrian asked, still fuming.
"Stay out of this, runt," Antoine snarked. "You're not even old enough to know what we're talking about."
"I am, too!" Adrian shrilled, setting his own fishing rod alongside Sieghart's. He was only four years younger than Antoine, and he hated it when Antoine treated him like a stupid child. He was 7. "I know what I saw you doing to his sister."
"And what she was doing back," Antoine said, tossing his rod carelessly into the pile. "Don't forget that part!"
"He’s going to do all kinds of things to you," Raphael warned, "And none of them good."
"Not if he doesn't find out. Come on, let's go!"
Raphael set his rod down with the others. "Might as well. You're all too noisy. You're scaring the fish."
"He scares everything, especially mothers," Tristan said.
"You're just jealous," Antoine said as they headed upriver.
"Of you? No!" Tristan said. "I don't fancy relationships.”
Antoine gaped at him. "You’re so empty."
Tristan shrugged with forced nonchalance. "She’s just not my type."
"Wait, who do you fancy?" Sieghart asked.
"Nobody I'm telling all of you about."
"Yeah, 'cause you know I could have her if I wanted her," Antoine taunted.
"What makes you think she'd want you?"
"Chill. He thinks everyone wants him," Raphael said.
"I haven't seen any evidence to the contrary," Antoine said, "And I'm doing a scientific study."
"Other girls likes you because they think there's money in it, and the girl next door likes everything in trousers," Tristan snided. "Nothing scientific about that."
"And you think this precious lady of yours likes you for what, your personality?" Antoine mocked.
"Shut up," Tristan snapped, his cheeks scarlet. "What would you know?"
"How to talk to a girl without tripping over my own tongue, for one thing. Five pounds says she doesn't even know you exist."
"Ow!"
Everyone turned toward Adrian, who was holding onto a tree branch with one hand and his ankle with the other.
"Are you all right?" Raphael queried, reaching for his brother.
"Yes," Adrian said, setting his foot back on the ground and putting weight on it, testing. "I just twisted it."
"Are you sure you're up for this?" Sieghart asked, frowning.
"I'm fine, guys," Adrian assured as he caught up with the others. "The doctor said that exercise is good for me."
The other brothers fell silent. Adrian had been hospitalized for a month because of an accident—he fell from the horseback.
"Well, I've had enough rest to last me a lifetime," Adrian flippantly uttered. "Oy! Look at that!"
The tree, a gigantic oak, had been cut in two, one half still standing, and the other nearly bridging the stream, the highest limbs dangling tantalizingly on the opposite bank. They made their way toward it, holding onto branches and sometimes to each other to keep from sliding into the water, but the storm the night before had left the bank muddy and treacherous. When they reached the tree, Raphael ran his hand up the pale exposed inside, wondering at the force it must have taken to rip this massive landmark apart.
"Lucky it was raining so hard," Raphael stated, peering upward at scorch marks. "This could have turned into a forest fire."
"It feels pretty stable," Antoine said, pushing downward on the broken part with both hands, putting as much weight into it as he could.
"It's going to die, isn't it," Adrian muttered. This tree was a living thing, older even than his grandparents, and now it was badly hurt in a way that no one could fix.
"Eventually," Tristan said as he climbed onto the broken trunk, jumping experimentally before he reached a hand down to Antoine then Adrian.
"Adrian, be careful!" Raphael warned.
"He'll be fine," Tristan said. "I think it's strong enough to hold all three of us."
Antoine climbed up without hesitation, and so did Sieghart, leaving Adrian to swallow down his own apprehension or look like a baby in front of the older boys. He ignored Tristan's proffered hand, and pulled himself up behind the older brothers.
The trunk was wide but slippery, and the rush of the stream, swollen to almost twice its normal size, sounded like a waterfall. If the other boys noticed or cared, they didn't show it, they just worked their way toward the branches. There was no reason to try to get to the opposite bank, but that didn't mean they shouldn't find out if it could be done.
A branch cracked under Tristan's foot, and he pulled back. "Careful!" he said.
"Adrian, maybe you should go back," Raphael persuaded from behind the youngest, making sure the little guy isn’t too far from his reach.
"I don't see why," Adrian said. "I'm lighter than you. If anyone can make it, it's me."
"No!" Raphael said. "If you fall in, Mom will skin me alive."
"I won't fall in," Adrian said. His bravado, reinforced by his balance, had grown into courage.
A second branch cracked, forcing Tristan to retreat again.
"Give it up!" Sieghart said. "Those branches aren't going to hold you."
"Boy next door said he made it across," Antoine prompted.
"He’s full of it," Raphael said. "He outweighs you by a good two stone."
"I still think I can do it," Antoine insisted.
"I said no," Raphael sternly repeated.
"Forget it, Antoine," Sieghart convinced. "There's no point. You'd just have to climb back over anyway. I wonder what they'll do with this?"
"I don't know how they're going to get it out," Raphael said. "They can't get a team of horses in here, and if they want to haul it out by hand, they'll have to cut it up."
"They're probably going to let it rot here," Tristan said, "Because moving it will be more trouble than it's worth. Let's go back."
"Let me guess," Sieghart began. "By the time we get back, either the girl next door or Antoine’s girlfriend will be free."
"Actually, I was thinking that Liza visits her grandmother on Saturdays, and she might need someone to walk her home," Antoine chimed in.
Tristan snorted. "Someone catches you, and you're going to have three girls out for your blood."
"Shut your trap, no—."
Antoine broke off and shouted instead. He was falling.
To Tristan, it was as if time itself slowed down. He could see the surprise on Antoine's face, then fear as Antoine flailed, lost his footing, grabbed in vain for a branch, then hit his head as he tumbled into the rushing water.
"Antoine!" Tristan screamed, then he threw himself into the stream.
He struggled upward, coughing and spitting, trying to keep his head up as the current took him downstream. Antoine was just ahead of him, but Tristan couldn't tell if he was swimming or not. He tried to shout, but got another mouthful of water, and then his head went under again. He smacked his hand on a rock as he pushed back up toward the surface, then he knew where he must be. Ordinarily, one could walk across the stream on these rocks, but with the water so high, the place had become a small rapids.
"Antoine!"
"Tristan!" Antoine's voice was filled with pain and fear, and when Tristan turned his head, he saw his younger brother clinging desperately to one of the rocks, blood and water streaming down his face.
Tristan gave a great heave of effort, throwing himself perpendicular to the current toward Antoine.
He felt a blinding pain in his arm and choked on a mouthful of water so big that he thought he would drown, instinctive terror mixing with despair. He'd underestimated his own strength. Instead of pushing himself hard enough to clear the next rock, he'd slammed into it. He tried to swim, but he couldn't move his arm. It's broken, he thought. He needed to breathe, but it was all he could do to lift his head above water for a split second before he was pulled back under.
‘I'm sorry, Antoine!’ he thought as he held his breath, lost in the pain and the water and the roaring in his ears. He kicked as hard as he could, trying to get his feet under him, grabbing with his good arm for something, anything, but the water carried him inexorably down. Then he fetched up against something solid and his fingers slid over wet skin. "Antoine!" he gasped.
"It's me." It was Raphael’s voice, which meant it was Raphael’s arms around him.
"Get Antoine!" Tristan sobbed through uncontrollable coughing. His nose and throat burned.
"He's fine," Raphael said gently, pulling Tristan towards the bank.
Tristan didn't believe it. "Let me go! I have to get Antoine!" But he screamed with pain as his struggles put pressure on his arm.
"Tristan, hold still, you're hurt," Raphael calmly instructed. "We have to get you to the house."
"Antoine's hurt, too," Tristan said.
"I know," Raphael said. "Sieghart got him."
"Tristan!"
Antoine's voice was a weak shout, and when Tristan opened his eyes, he got water in them and had to blink. "Antoine?"
"He's fine, see?" Raphael said, although Tristan couldn't see through his tears. "Can you walk?"
"Yes," Tristan said, even as his feet gave out from under him, and he screamed again as he tried to catch himself.
Raphael caught him instead, then knelt in the water, pulling Tristan’s good arm over his shoulders. "Get on my back. I'll carry you."
"I just wanted to help Antoine." Tristan rested his face on Raphael’s bare, wiry shoulder, sobbing with shame. He'd wanted to help, but all he'd done was make things worse, and it made him feel very small, as if it was he and not Antoine who might never grow up.
"I know," Raphael said. "You did great, Tristan.”
Tristan braved himself to look at the two other brothers and finally caught them giving thumbs-up to him, a reassuring smile on their face, while the youngest was busy wiping snot and tears from his face as he grinned so widely at the sight.
