OBERLEUTNANT Schäfer sat at his desk across from his clerk. He signed papers, made notations in logs and records, and issued orders. Under a stack of supply requests, he found four unsealed envelopes with hand written letters inside.
"Was ist das?" he barked. What is this?
"The weekly letters allowed out from the ranking officers held here. Three are British officers and an Australian. Herr Kapitän felt your ability to read English so fluently might help the censors in this case."
Schäfer nodded. Everything in order, then. He quickly thumbed through the envelopes and read the addresses on them. Then he opened each letter and skimmed the contents striking through anything that might be of strategic value to their enemy. Mostly, the letters related to past shared events and encouragement that the prisoners were being treated well by their captors. Nothing dangerous. Senior officers knew better. When he finished, he stuffed the letters back inside their respective envelopes and handed them to the clerk. "Go ahead and post them to the censors immediately with my endorsement. See that they are posted as soon as possible. I assume I will also have the pleasure of reading mail that arrives for our special guests?"
"Yes, sir," the clerk said, taking the envelopes from him. "But the censors from both sides will have already gone through them."
Schäfer felt his eyes tighten. "Very well. That will be all for now I think."
The clerk stood and saluted, then left the room. Schäfer leaned his chair back and closed his eyes. He felt so much anger that Marie Perrin had been arrested. He hadn't wanted her arrested until it couldn't possibly be helped. Now, with all the evidence against her, he had no choice but to keep her behind bars. He could not even secure her release and, even if he were somehow able to, they had no guarantee she would resume her activities.
He felt fortunate that he had maintained command of the prison. Admitting that the sergeant had acted without his orders or consent could easily have cost him his new rank and responsibility. At least they hadn't replaced him. Fortunately, Herr Kapitän had political aspirations and didn't want to risk offending any high ranking officials that might be looking out for his newest Oberleutnant. Maintaining his position as the commander of the prison garrison gave him more control over what Marie would have to endure.
Of course, his motives were not purely to the betterment of the Fatherland. Not purely. He had other motives.
He sat up and turned back to his desk. He had too much to do in a short day to sit kicked back and thinking about the fate of a beautiful spy who was, after all, an enemy of the Third Reich. The important thing in the next few weeks would be for her to come to trust him. If she didn't trust him, then he didn't know what might happen to her.
MARIE warily sat up and scooted painfully to the corner of her cot, carefully placing her tattered back into the corner of the cell. She could only open one eye, and her cheek throbbed in a painful rhythm with her heart.
The small cell contained a single cot and a bucket. The stone walls looked damp, and she could smell a musty smell, could hear water dripping somewhere beyond her room. A heavy wood door with a barred window provided the only aperture. Through it, she could hear sounds from beyond her cell. A single bulb hung above her cot, the light dim and barely penetrating the shadows in the corners.
Some hours ago, she'd woken with vague memories of being removed from the central cage and placed in this cell. She'd woken up dry, with her ribs tightly wrapped and her finger set, splinted, and wrapped. She wore a thick cotton slip, under which she could feel the wrap that bound her aching ribs. On the corner of the cot, neatly folded, lay a clean gray cotton dress and thick wool socks.
As she dressed, she'd had a hard time even securing the buttons on her dress because her hands shook so badly and her finger hurt with every movement of her hands.
After dressing, she tried to shut out the throbbing in her cheek, torso, and back, and dozed off, but the sounds in and around the prison made it nearly impossible to actually sleep. Thirst unlike anything she'd ever felt in her life consumed her, and the gnawing hunger in her stomach hurt almost as much as her cheek. The thirst, hunger, discomfort, the banging of metal on metal as doors opened and closed, the sound of heels clicking along stone floors, the whispered conversations of some prisoners and the anguished cries of others — those sounds kept her from truly relaxing into a deep sleep.
Now her cell door slowly opened and she feared what she would face next. More beatings? More ripping off of her clothes? More razor sharp ice cold blades against her skin or riding crops across her back? Did they put her in here, dry and nursed, merely to strip her bare and terrify her even more deeply?
In the midst of her reverie, First Lieutenant Leopold Schäfer, perhaps the last person on earth she expected to see here, walked into her cell. He carried a tray with some broth, a heel of dark bread, and a chunk of cheese.
She turned her body so that her feet touched the floor, but she did not stand. Nor did she speak first.
He set the tray on the corner of the cot and stared down at her, appearing to inspect her bandages and her clothes. She tried to read his expression, but the hunger overwhelmed her and she could do nothing but watch her hand snake out, grab the bread, and bring it to her watering mouth for a quick bite. She dipped the remainder into the soup and shoved another bite into her mouth. It tasted better than any meal she could remember.
It hurt her cheek to chew, but she ignored the pain. On the side of her swollen cheek, she felt a loose tooth, so she shifted the food to the other side of her mouth. As she slowly chewed around the mouth full of bread, the tall blond man just watched her. He did not speak until she swallowed.
"Fräulein Perrin, I must apologize for the treatment you've received here. I promise you that there will be no repeat of such treatment. You understand?"
Marie lifted the eyebrow of her good eye and picked up the cheese. "I beg your pardon?"
He nodded stiffly. "This is my prison. But, I was away. I did not even know they'd arrested you. Had I known —" He knelt next to her and put a hand over the bandaged hand she kept cradled in her lap. She tried not to stiffen away from his touch, but could not help the instinctive reaction. He ignored it and looked her in the eye with very serious blue eyes. "If I had known I never would have allowed any of this to happen."
Searching his face, wondering at his game, not trusting what came across as sincere, she said, "I don't believe you."
The smile briefly crossed his face but didn't touch his eyes. "You don't?"
"No. I don't." She didn't tell him that she thought he was being nice, hoping that she would confide in him.
"Ah. Well, I shall simply avoid asking you any questions. Then maybe you'll start to trust my sincerity. I don't want to see you hurt, Marie." The use of her Christian name sounded strange coming from him. "You will be safe here. My men are under orders not to come near you. I will provide for your care."
"You?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you get out of that?"
"Only the knowledge that a woman under my care isn't being tortured or … otherwise mistreated." He gracefully stood. "There is no right way to do the wrong thing. There are some things that are simply wrong even in a time of war."
He clicked his heels and stiffly nodded. "I pray that your injuries don't hurt you too much and that you heal quickly." While she contemplated his use of the word 'pray' as if it naturally and normally came out of his mouth, he slipped his hand into the inside of his jacket and pulled out a small French translation of the King James Bible. "Please keep this hidden. I know it will bring you comfort, but if any guard sees it, they will take it and it may compromise me."
She did not take it from him. After a heartbeat or two, he set it on the cot next to the tray. "Good day, Fräulein Perrin."
She stared at the door long after he left. Her stomach gave a painful turn and broke her out of her trance. Taking a small bite of cheese, she slowly chewed and reached out to run her fingers over the Bible, knowing that giving it to her amounted to nothing more than a ploy. He must have seen the Bible she kept in her room that day she had mended the button on his trousers. From behind the screen, he would have been able to examine the area by her bedside table completely unobserved. Her worn Bible sat on the nightstand. He would have guessed at her Christian faith.
Regardless of his ploy, she brought the Bible up to her cheek and closed her eyes as a tear slipped down her cheek. "What He brings me to, He will see me through," she whispered to herself. She thought of a verse in the hymn "In the Hour of Trial".
When my last hour cometh,
fraught with strife and pain,
When my dust returneth to the dust again;
On thy truth relying,
Through that mortal strife,
Jesus take me dying,
To eternal life.
She remembered then that she'd seen Hope. Her sisters knew her whereabouts. They knew she was alive. They would be planning and praying. Peace settled around her like a mantle. She slipped the Bible under her thin pillow and took a sip of soup, ate some more cheese, and contemplated the visit from Lieutenant Leopold Schäfer.
She polished off the small meal. No longer ravenously hungry, no longer wet, no longer cold, she felt incredibly sleepy. She stood on weak and shaky legs and carried the tray over to the cell door and set it on the ground. Half stumbling, she went back to her cot and lay down, feeling the haze of sleep taking over her brain.
As she drifted off, she thought of the missive she'd started to send to London. No matter what happened to her, London knew any new missive did not come from her. Her last thought was voiced in a short whispered prayer of thanksgiving that, if nothing else, she'd started to send that transmission to headquarters. At least they would know the Nazis had captured her.
They would not continue to send transmissions thinking she waited on this side of the channel. The German soldiers who had possession of her wireless, and even now pretended to be her, could have thrown a serious wrench into their plans. With the big mission coming up, and with Praetorian needing the already staged support from London, the knowledge of her capture could play a key role.
Willing her mind to stop thinking about her circumstances or worrying about her future, she closed her eyes and let sleep finally overtake her.
Story continues in Homeland's Hope