Chapter Fifteen

THE FIRE BECAME a heap of hot, grey-white ashes. The rabbit had been roasted and eaten, Captain Marsh having cut the meat free with a penknife. Sophia had dined ravenously. They had washed their hands in the stream and drunk from it.

‘Roast rabbit is good,’ said Sophia.

‘Anything edible is good to the starving,’ said Captain Marsh.

‘You are a man who can survive, I think,’ she said.

‘If I am, then you have similar qualities. And what are we to look forward to? A better world, according to our prime minister.’

‘Better for you or for us?’ asked Sophia.

‘Better for everyone, if you can believe politicians.’

‘There was nothing very wrong with the one I was living in before you went to war against us,’ said Sophia.

‘But you were far more prepared for it than we were.’

‘Are you proud that your sea blockade is starving millions of women and children?’

‘No prouder than you are about bombing women and children from your Zeppelins.’

‘That’s a lie,’ said Sophia. ‘Our Zeppelins only attack your military installations.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I dislike you,’ said Sophia.

‘I don’t dislike you.’

‘In the way you’ve acted, you’ve proved yourself very self-centred.’

‘Is that a nice thing to say after I’ve just given you the best cuts and larger share of my rabbit?’

‘I consider that remark petty and untrue. In any case, it was as much my rabbit as yours.’

‘I shot it,’ said Captain Marsh.

‘But I was the one who saw it first.’

‘Were you? I thought I was.’

‘Are you enjoying this ridiculous conversation?’

‘Yes, very much. And I don’t think it ridiculous.’

‘Don’t be patronizing,’ said Sophia, feverishly determined to keep a necessary gulf between them. ‘That is as objectionable to me as your brutality.’

‘You’re not going to forgive me?’

‘Never,’ said Sophia, then remembered again the dark, icy canal and the way he had risked sliding into it with her. She remembered the strength of his body and its life-saving firmness and warmth. She bit her lip. ‘Captain Marsh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Although there have been unpleasant moments which I’d rather forget, I think I understand what you are doing. Perhaps in the circumstances you were entitled to make your own rules.’

‘I think I was entitled to take possession of your car,’ he said, ‘but not of you.’

Sophia looked at the ashes of the fire. There were no flames in which to draw pictures, pictures of Fritz. Fritz, incredibly, was a retreating image. Had he too been no more than a temporary enthusiasm of hers? Her mother would have said so. Were all her enthusiasms born only of instinctive rebellion against the lifestyles of the Junkers? Fiercely, she tried to conjure up a soul-saving picture of Fritz. All she achieved was a picture pale and meaningless. She glanced at Captain Marsh. Sitting with his back against a tree, he was making one of his many surveys of the fields and that pitted little road. His features were strongly masculine, his vigour apparent even when he was still. He did not have Fritz’s gaiety or charm. He was a harder man than Fritz. Fritz was amusing. Captain Marsh was resolute.

‘You’re still going to wait until it’s dark before you move?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking, and I know I’m not too happy about your Major Kirsten and his lady friend. What was the point of them coming in here to make eyes at each other? Had it been to make love –’

‘Don’t be disgusting. Major Kirsten is not a man to act like a peasant.’

‘Even so, it’s wishful thinking to believe they weren’t aware of us.’

‘Then why didn’t he try to arrest you?’

‘Because he must know I’m armed.’

‘You’d shoot a brave soldier like Major Kirsten, a one-armed man with a damaged eye?’

‘I suppose he’d shoot me if he had to.’

‘But would you have shot him?’ asked Sophia in strange anguish.

‘No. I’m not as desperate as that.’

‘You had your revolver ready.’

‘Yes. For the sake of advantage. Just the advantage, that’s all. I’m going to get out of here very soon and cut across the road and the fields. There’s a long belt of trees adjacent to those workshops. I’ll risk that no one will think I’m sitting within striking distance of a Luftwaffe repair establishment. I’ll stay there until it’s dark, and then go on.’

In a strained voice, Sophia said, ‘We’ll both go on. I shall lose my way otherwise.’

‘No, you won’t. Skirt the far end of the workshops’ perimeter and keep going. You’ll come to the main road –’

‘I’m not going on my own. I have no confidence in the dark.’

‘Are you sure of all this?’ said Captain Marsh gently.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m not sure myself that you’re really sure.’

‘How many times must we argue about this?’ Sophia got up, moved away, came back after a moment and said, ‘Until you’re ready for us to move, tell me what life was like for you before the war.’

‘My father’s a country parson,’ said Captain Marsh.

‘Yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘That is the story of your life up to the war?’ said Sophia.

‘More or less. Christian upbringing and rural pastimes. Grammar school in a Wiltshire country town, and holidays in the hayfields. Vicarage tea parties on Sunday afternoons.’ Captain Marsh did not mind talking, although he remained alert. His two sisters entered the nursing profession and his brother, receiving the call, was admitted to a theological college to train for his orders. He himself, at seventeen, began to study farming. His father, recognizing he had a practical turn of mind, cajoled various Wiltshire farmers into paying him seven shillings a week to work from dawn to dusk. However, he became far more interested in the wheels of the industry than in the soil. The carts, the wains, the tools, the equipment and the machines of farming were his field.

He occasionally liked to handle a plough, but his bent was mechanical, and motorized farm machines fascinated him. Just before the war, when he was twenty-five, he had used some savings to purchase a blacksmith’s business in a small market town, together with a derelict warehouse next door. The old blacksmith had died, and his assistant, Simon Tukes, did not have the money to buy the business for himself. Simon, however, had been given a quarter-ownership and a wage to run the forge, while the warehouse was to be converted into a workshop for the repair and maintenance of mechanized transport. Motor lorries and other vehicles were beginning to take the place of horse-drawn carts and wagons.

The development of the workshop had been halted by the war, but he was certain business would be there for the asking when peace arrived. The smithy would still be needed, very much so, and that and what would come to be an automobile garage, with a petrol pump, would mean that both the mechanical and horse-drawn trade could be catered for. He and Simon Tukes would run both businesses. He forecast an impressive postwar development of the automobile industry, and an increasing need for garages.

‘Do you mean you will crawl about under broken-down cars as a way of life after the war?’ asked Sophia in astonishment.

‘As a way of establishing a profitable business. I’m certain I can’t fail.’

‘But will you like it?’ Sophia had never heard any officer talk of running such a business as that. ‘So much dirt and oil and grease?’

‘Naturally, I’ll like it. I wouldn’t consider it otherwise.’

She stared at him in amazement. Repairing motor cars was work for people who were no good at anything else, or had no profession. One was aware of such people, and their usefulness, but she had never known any gentlemen take on that kind of work.

‘But what would happen if you married?’ she asked.

‘You mean how would my wife like me crawling under cars and getting dirty?’

‘Would she like it?’

‘Not if I asked her to crawl under with me. But I hope she’d look at my prospects, not my overalls.’

‘You don’t have a fiancée?’ said Sophia, studying discarded rabbit bones.

‘I’ve been a little too busy these last four years,’ he said. ‘I was in Mesopotamia until late 1917, flying against your allies, the Turks, which I admit was not quite so hazardous as flying against Richtofen. I was transferred to France a few months ago, since when I’ve died a death a dozen times, but I’m still hanging on. Richtofen kept after me yesterday, because he had me going the wrong way over his territory. You saw what happened. Does your Fritz fly with Richtofen?’

‘Yes.’

‘I thought so.’ Captain Marsh was impressed. ‘He must be very good, then.’

‘All Richtofen’s pilots are among the best,’ said Sophia. ‘Captain Marsh, are you sure you’re going to be a blacksmith and a car repairer after the war?’

‘You don’t think much of it?’ he said, watching the road through the trees.

‘But you’re a gentleman, aren’t you?’ she said.

He laughed.

‘Have I behaved like one?’

‘No,’ she said.

‘Then is your question answered?’

‘No,’ she said.

‘I see. I suppose what you really want to know is whether my background entitles me to be classed as a gentleman. It doesn’t. I’m simply known as a parson’s son. That entitles me to be called respectable, like a farmer’s son.’

‘All German officers are gentlemen,’ said Sophia.

Captain Marsh coughed.

‘Are you sure?’ he said.

‘None of them would—’ She stopped.

‘Brutalize you?’

‘I have told you – I would prefer to forget that.’

‘Frankly, so would I. It’s on my conscience. However, what’s your life been like?’

‘Unexceptional,’ said Sophia, ‘until I met Fritz. I’ve spent most of my years learning how to take my future place as a good German wife and mother.’

‘I see. And that had no appeal?’

‘I don’t like being fitted into a stiff frame, I would like to be allowed to kick and scream, if I wished –’

‘Kick and scream?’ Captain Marsh looked as if she had pronounced the earth flat.

‘Yes. I have never done so, of course. Such behaviour is as unknown among my family as cowardice among the Spartans, but as a wife I should like to feel I could do so, if I ever wished to, and that my husband would understand.’

‘It could on occasions, relieve any monotony that might be hanging around. Sophia have you suffered repression?’

‘No, lectures,’ said Sophia.

‘Then let me wish you a future free of all lectures, and a husband who’ll encourage you whenever you want to let your hair down, which is what you mean by kicking and screaming, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Sophia, inspecting her gloves. Captain Marsh climbed to his feet. She rose with him. ‘It’s time to go?’ she said.

‘I think so. I’ve asked a hundred times, I know, but I must ask again – are you sure it’s right for you to come with me?’

‘I know what I’m doing,’ she said. She did know now, and the knowledge was crucifying her.

‘There’s still too much daylight left, but I wouldn’t put it past your Major Kirsten to come back after he’s dropped his lady love, and to bring a company of German grenadiers with him. We’ll move out, cross that dirt road and make for the belt of trees on this side of the repair shops. Someone might spot us and take note, but we’ll chance it. When we leave that belt of trees, we’ll head for the main road. It should be dark by the time we reach it.’

‘The main road might be very busy,’ said Sophia.

‘Again? Surely not. Not unless –’ Captain Marsh lapsed into serious thought for a moment, then began walking, Sophia beside him.

They emerged cautiously from their shelter and at once felt very exposed. The afternoon was fading, the light pearly grey, but it felt very bright to them. There was a tangible quality to the atmosphere, as if it could be touched. Now and again the ring of metal on metal echoed around the distant sheds. That was the only sound. The guns were silent, the concentrations of German batteries concealed and waiting, and there was not a plane in the cloudy sky. To Sophia, the atmosphere held its portent of gigantic battle. It was the great quiet before the great offensive.

Something began to disturb the quiet. Light breezes turned into a strong wind. Dead leaves began to lift and skitter over the grass. Sophia’s loose hair whipped, smothering her face with strands of bright gold. She tossed them back. They reached the dirt road. They looked around. They saw no one, they heard no one. They crossed the road and walked rapidly. Sophia’s hair danced and frisked. It was like a waving banner of light to the watching Major Kirsten, buried in a fold in the ground not far from the copse.

Captain Marsh, the field-grey greatcoat buttoned around him, lengthened his stride. Sophia quickened her pace to keep up with him. He was such a positive man, she thought. He would make mistakes at times, but never out of hesitation or uncertainty. He seemed as sure of himself as ever, even at this moment when he must be aware of their vulnerability. Away to their right, a German guard suddenly showed himself beside the sentry box of the repair establishment. He had his back to them, and Captain Marsh was making ground rapidly to put them out of sight of the man.

The long belt of trees lay ahead, separated from the enclosed workshops by a strip of ground no more than twenty metres wide. Captain Marsh sank down then, pulling Sophia with him. An open lorry had appeared on the dirt road, trundling to make a turn that took it on to a wide tarmac surface leading to the workshops. It stopped at the entrance beside the sentry box. The guard spoke to the driver. The lorry drove in after a few moments, the guard watching it. Captain Marsh and Sophia rose, and made for cover at a swift run. Their cover was the belt of trees, and they rounded the first trees and walked alongside the wooded stretch, quite hidden from the establishment.

Captain Marsh cast backward glances as they walked fast. The light was a deeper grey.

‘Just right,’ he said. ‘By the time we reach the main road it should be dark.’ He cast another glance behind him. ‘Damn.’

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Sophia. ‘I thought we were going to wait here, inside this wood –’

‘Walk on. There’s someone behind us, in the lee of a hedge. He’s in uniform. Don’t look round.’ He took her arm, pulling at her.

‘Don’t do that,’ she said a little wildly.

‘I must. Let me drag you. You mustn’t be seen walking of your own free will. At times you must show resistance.’ He continued pulling at her, and she understood. The situation never improved. It worsened every hour, because she knew why she was staying with him.

‘When we reach the end of this wood,’ she said, ‘we’ll have no shelter at all.’

‘When we come to that point,’ said Captain Marsh, hand firm on her arm, ‘we’ll angle around it to get ourselves out of sight, then turn and enter the wood. That might just fox whoever’s behind us into thinking we’ve gone straight on. After all, if we were going to use the place as cover, we’d have entered it by now.’

Sophia wondered desperately how it would all end.

Major Kirsten was experiencing a self-critical stage. Lieutenant Landsberg should have been back twenty minutes ago at the latest. He had made no real allowances for a hold-up, no provision for what she should do in such an event. He had only said he would take a note of the direction of the fugitives if they made a move. They had. He had followed them for a while, then stopped in order to avoid losing contact with Elissa when she returned. She would leave the car at the point beyond the copse where he had parted from her before she began her drive to Douai. She would expect him to show himself then, to meet her and to take charge of whatever men Colonel Hoffner had sent with her.

He had seen the fugitives leave the copse, walking fast, and at a time when there was still no sign of her. If they got too far ahead and made all kinds of twists and turns, he would lose them unless his endearing colleague –

Endearing?

‘You are a fool, Josef,’ he said to himself.

The chase had become compulsive. Sophia could not be left indefinitely in the hands of the RFC pilot, and her father was too admirable a soldier to have his daughter’s wilfulness made known to all and sundry. Major Kirsten hoped the general was still unaware that she was a hostage. It was enough that Colonel Hoffner knew it. But was she definitely that? She had left the copse with the man, without any sign of being dragged or threatened. True, as far as the major could make out, he had taken her by the arm in their progress adjacent to that wood, but exactly why? To hurry her on? To pull her on? To encourage her? They would be out of sight soon, for they were cutting across to the end of the long wooded stretch.

They were heading for Douai. That was absolutely certain now. The afternoon was going, the light very grey, but they were clearly visible. For some reason they had risked coming out into the open. Douai held something for both of them. A name and address for the British flyer, perhaps, and given to him by the pleasant and helpful proprietor of the inn at Lutargne? And for Sophia, there was Captain Fritz Gerder.

They disappeared beyond the wood. Major Kirsten moved from the sheltering lee of a hedge and considered his next move. He could keep them in sight if he went after them now. He could even catch them up, but then what? A shooting match? Out of the question if the man kept Sophia close to him. Major Kirsten swore softly. He needed the soldiers Elissa should be bringing from Douai. There would be no shooting match then, but an encircling manoeuvre. He hoped to God that Colonel Hoffner would not send greybeards.

There were men available in that distant Luftwaffe repair unit, but whether the officer in charge would part with any was uncertain. He took another look back, standing on the second bar of a gate in the hedge to give himself extra height. He saw the car then, back beyond the copse, with a small military runabout van behind it. Both vehicles were stationary. Lieutenant Landsberg was out of the car and looking around. From the van came several soldiers. Steadying himself, Major Kirsten lifted his arm and signalled. Elissa saw him, a small figure in the distance. She waved and came at a run, the soldiers following.

Beyond the wood, out of sight of Major Kirsten, Captain Marsh and Sophia made a quick turn-about and dashed for shelter. On their left was the tree-lined west side of the wire perimeter. They entered the wood, and the effect of becoming enclosed was now a very familiar one. Captain Marsh stopped and patted the trunk of a plane tree.

‘I hope we haven’t jumped out of the frying pan into the fire,’ he said.

‘Be thankful the French farmers haven’t cut all their trees down,’ said Sophia.

‘It’s sound farming policy to look after standing timber. Have you seen what winds can do to young wheat?’

‘I’ve seen what it can do to ripe wheat,’ said Sophia, ‘for I’ve faced the winds of East Prussia and almost been blown off my feet.’

‘It’s given you a very healthy complexion. Stay there a moment while I take a look.’

Sophia, however, was not disposed to accept orders, and she followed him to a point where they were able to make a survey of the area they had just left behind. In the distance, a man became visible as he moved away from a hedge. His cap and greatcoat distinguished him as a German officer. Sophia did not need to guess at his identity.

‘It’s Major Kirsten,’ she said.

‘Composing a poem to his love?’ said Captain Marsh sarcastically.

‘Perhaps,’ said Sophia defiantly. She saw the distant figure move to a gate and stand on it. Perceptibly, he lifted an arm and signalled. Captain Marsh grimaced.

‘What’s he doing now? Waving goodbye or bringing up reinforcements? I’ll wager he’ll be on our tails again in a moment. Can you climb a tree, and if you can, would you want to?’

His eyes were quick as he turned to scan the interior of the wood, picking out evergreens. His every reaction to danger, thought Sophia, was to immediately work out a countermove.

‘I climbed every kind of tree with my brothers when I was young,’ she said, ‘until I was told it was not a recommended activity for growing girls. I protested. My mother spoke to me about ladies’ legs.’

Captain Marsh glanced at her. For a brief moment, a reminiscent smile seemed about to break forth, but died almost stillborn. Her mouth twitched, that was all.

‘We need not consider legs, except for climbing.’

It was a comment that appealed to Sophia’s natural sense of humour, but it was not a time when she could react with a smile of any kind.

‘I’m not expected to climb trees now, I hope,’ she said. ‘You must give up. We both must.’

‘You can, if you wish to,’ said Captain Marsh, ‘and I recommend that as being in your best interests.’

‘While you hide in a tree? How ridiculous. That is like playing a children’s game in a house that is on fire.’

‘I shan’t hide in any tree if you want to give up, since if you do you must inform on me. You must, for your own sake.’

‘I’m not going to give up,’ she said, her face set.

Captain Marsh pointed to a huge cedar tree, its branches laden.

‘We could climb that easily enough,’ he said, ‘just in case they comb this place. Out in the open, there’s still too much light.’

‘But up in that tree, we could be trapped,’ said Sophia.

‘Yes, if they see us. But we’ll climb high and make a sporting game of it.’

‘Sporting game?’ Her low laugh was bitter. ‘This has never been a game to me, least of all now.’

‘I know. However, they may not even enter this wood. On the other hand, they might. It’s your decision.’

Captain Marsh took a final look at the distant figure of Major Kirsten. He saw other figures appear. He turned and made for the cedar tree, Sophia with him. The lower branches were easily accessible.

‘Shall you go first?’ he said.

‘My mother would strongly disapprove of that,’ said Sophia.

‘I’ve never met your mother, and am never likely to, but she has an exceptional daughter, so rather than upset her, I’ll go first.’

He began his climb. His stiff and painful finger was a minor worry. He found easy footholds. Sophia followed, aware that she was in a despairing relationship with the impossible. Above her, Captain Marsh reached down with a long arm to give her a helping hand from time to time, pulling her up after him. Her limbs were supple, but her skirts hampering. The multitude of thick branches gave firm assistance to the climb, although the dense foliage plucked at her hair and coat, and the spiral leaf tufts yielded reluctantly to her upward passage. The tree was a massive giant, with a vast spread.

They climbed until the profusion of growth shut them off from the ground. They sat together on a solid branch, Sophia with her shoulder against the trunk. From where they were they had a commanding view of the ground they had covered all the way from the copse. The light was dimmer, but they made out the shapes of two vehicles, a car and a canvas-covered van. On the move were soldiers. There was also a woman.

‘Your military Romeo and Juliet are leading the charge,’ said Captain Marsh.

‘We’ve been playing your game,’ said Sophia, ‘and they have been playing theirs.’

‘And who, I wonder, is going to lose?’

‘I am,’ said Sophia.