Our Darkest Night

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Our Darkest Night Page 11

by Jennifer Robson


  That evening, after the children were in bed and Aldo had uncorked a bottle of wine, Rosa and Nina told Nico of Zwerger’s most recent visit. He listened, one thumb digging into the crease between his brows, offering no comment until they had finished.

  “Can you describe Zwerger’s uniform? Did you notice any unusual badges? Think of his collar—did you see the insignia of the SS on the right side? Like you saw on the car’s pennant?”

  Nina closed her eyes, trying to remember. “I don’t think so, no. It was solid black. And on the other side there were some diamonds.”

  “There was a patch on his sleeve,” Rosa added. “His left sleeve. It had the letters SD sewn on it.”

  Nico nodded, but said nothing more, only drank down the rest of his wine.

  “I still can’t believe you were friends with him,” Rosa muttered.

  “He wasn’t my friend. We were in the same class at seminary, but only for a few years. He left in ’38. I assumed he’d returned home to Austria.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “He’d been bullying some of the other students. Poor boys, like me, who were cowed by his boasts of wealth and a powerful family. He stole from them, made them do his work, and I’m almost certain that he hurt at least one of them. Beat the boy up and then made him say it had been an accident.”

  “What happened?” Nina asked.

  “I went to Father Superior, expecting that he’d dismiss me out of hand, but he actually listened. Zwerger was sent packing the next day.”

  “He must have known it was you,” Rosa said flatly. “And that’s why he’s come back.”

  “I doubt it. I can’t imagine that Father Superior would have told him. And I wasn’t stupid enough to tell anyone else what I’d done. I just couldn’t stand the thought of his becoming a priest and having power over others.”

  “So much for that,” Aldo muttered. “What if he returns and you’re absent again?”

  “I’ll stay at home for a while. You and the boys are planning on helping Zio Beppe when he butchers the pigs next week, aren’t you? I have to stay put while you’re gone, and if he hasn’t made an appearance by then I’ll go looking for him.”

  “If he suspects anything, learns anything, we’re as good as dead,” Aldo warned.

  “How could he? He came here because he wanted to impress me with his exalted position. You heard what I said about his boasting when we were at school. Always wanting the rest of us to know about his family’s wealth back in Austria. Always making sure we knew he was better than the rest of us.”

  “What does the SD on his sleeve mean?” Nina asked.

  “Sicherheitsdienst. It translates as ‘security service.’”

  Aldo paled. “Then he does suspect something.”

  “No, Papà. On my life he doesn’t, otherwise he’d have arrested all of us. We do have to be careful, but that’s always been the case.”

  “No one is safe while the Germans are here,” Rosa said, and the thread of urgency in her voice made the hair on Nina’s nape stand on end. “All the more reason for us to bring their occupation to an end. Zwerger changes nothing.”

  Chapter 13

  10 December 1943

  They were clearing up after lunch when they heard the crunch of gravel under car tires. Zwerger had returned.

  Nico was outside; now he came to stand at the door. “Get the children upstairs, Rosa. And you, too, Nina. Best if I speak to him alone.”

  The children were curious, of course, and Carlo was desperate to get a better look at the car outside, but one hard look from Rosa stopped their chatter and had them hurrying to their rooms.

  Nico had said to go upstairs, but from that distance it would be impossible to hear what he and Zwerger were saying. Her curiosity outweighing her fear, Nina sat on the bottom step and forced herself into stillness. Rosa did the same.

  “—offer you a glass of wine? Or perhaps some caffè d’orzo?”

  “No, thank you.”

  She heard the scrape of chairs being pulled back. Felt the weight of the air in the kitchen. Wondered who would be the first to break the silence.

  Zwerger gave in first. “It is strange to see you after so long.”

  “It has only been five years, Karl.”

  “Still. A lifetime ago. I wonder if you know how much I looked up to you then. You were so immersed in your studies. So devout. So ignorant of the greater world.”

  “I was a boy.”

  “We were all boys, but some of us could see what was coming. Some of us could see what was happening to the world—and that we might help to change it for the better.”

  “You left without saying farewell,” Nico said, as if he were just then remembering. “We never knew what happened to you, and no one there would tell us.”

  “Father Superior never said?”

  “No. Why should he?”

  “I was called home, back to Austria. My country needed me.”

  “I see,” Nico said, and there was another long pause. “I can tell you are an officer, but my knowledge of Reich uniforms is lacking. Can you enlighten me?”

  “I am an Obersturmführer in the Schutzstaffel of the Third Reich. Presently I am based in Verona with the office of the Sicherheitsdienst. You may have heard of my esteemed commander, Hauptsturmführer Theodor Dannecker.”

  “I have not, but then we are very isolated in Mezzo Ciel. If you’re stationed in Verona, why did you come all the way here?”

  “A courtesy visit, no more. My work brings me to this corner of the Veneto quite often. I will say I am glad to have found you at home. You are often away.”

  “We have fields to work elsewhere, and relatives to help, even as they in turn help us. I’m sorry for having wasted your time on your previous visits. Had I known you were coming I would have tried to stay closer to home.” More silence, broken only by the hiss of the fire in the hearth. “My sister told me that you’d asked about my brothers.”

  “I did. I cannot help but notice that on this small farm alone you have four men of working age, yet none of you have seen fit to offer your service to the greater good.”

  “This is part of your duties with the SD?” Nico asked, and Nina had to wonder if Zwerger could discern the anger simmering beneath the question.

  “Of course not. I have nothing to do with such pedestrian concerns. But you leave yourself open—”

  “I’ll remind you that I am here because my elder brother was killed in North Africa.”

  “Your sister took the same insolent tone with me, Niccolò. Surely you are not so stupid as to do the same.”

  “I’m not being insolent. And I’m not saying the republic cannot take the boys for their work details. You have the upper hand here and we both know it. I’m asking only that you consider the circumstances. Look around you. You know we’ll struggle if you take Matteo or Paolo. We are barely surviving as it is.”

  “What of your wife?” Zwerger asked.

  Nina couldn’t help herself. She got to her feet, ignoring Rosa’s restraining hand, and inched forward until she was standing in the shadows, mere centimeters from the door to the kitchen.

  “What of her? She’s a great help to my sister, but she can’t be expected to work in the fields.”

  “Other women do. No better than animals.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Nico said easily. “I’d rather spend a day with my mule than with any number of men I’ve met.”

  “Then why is your young wife not out in the fields? Too much the city girl to dirty her hands?”

  “She’s a city girl, yes. But she’s not afraid of hard work.”

  “She was training to be a nurse—isn’t that what you said, Signora Gerardi? I can see you hovering there. You might as well come in.”

  If only she had stayed put on the stairs. Nina came forward, though it was a real effort to convince her legs to take even a few steps, and stood behind Nico.

  “How far advanced was your training?” Zwer
ger asked.

  “I had only completed a year.” That was close enough to the truth.

  “I see. Forgive me for persisting, but would you know what to do when confronted with an infected wound? Or one that needed stitching?”

  “Yes, providing the wound is not too deep, or the infection acute.”

  Zwerger nodded and then, turning his head, he called for one of his men. “Komm mal her, Meier!”

  A young soldier, hardly more than a boy, appeared at the kitchen door.

  “Meier has a wound that needs attending. He failed to listen to the medic and the stitches have split. Is there anything you can do?”

  She waited for Nico to intervene, but he said nothing. “May we go outside where the light is better? Have him sit on one of the stools while I wash my hands.”

  She washed and dried her hands and, taking up a clean dishcloth, went to sit on the unoccupied stool. Spreading the cloth upon her lap, she took the soldier’s hand and bent to inspect it. There was a deep, jagged cut in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, and though it had been stitched, the job had been hurried and careless. Several of the stitches had torn loose, and the edges of the wound were angry and inflamed.

  “It isn’t so very bad. To begin with, the infection is local to the wound. You’ll need to have someone remove the remaining stitches, clean the wound, and restitch it. The dressing will have to be kept clean and dry, and as soon as the wound has scabbed over, the sutures will have to come out. Anyone can do that with a clean pair of scissors and tweezers, though. Simply boil them or cover them with iodine.”

  “Are you able to attend to him now?” Zwerger asked.

  “I can, but I have no way of numbing the area. It will be quite painful. Won’t you consider taking him to Dr. Pivetti in the village?”

  Zwerger spoke to the soldier, and though her knowledge of German was imperfect, she was fairly certain he told Meier to “sit still and act like a man.” The soldier was already looking a little green, but he nodded and set his chin.

  “Let me gather my things,” she said, resigned to the task ahead, and returned to the kitchen.

  “I’ll need two bowls, one empty and one filled with the water you boiled earlier,” she told Rosa, “and can you fetch me the iodine, tweezers, scissors, needle, and thread from the first-aid box? Nico—can you spare a razor blade? A fresh one?”

  Outside the soldier was swallowing a great gulp of something from a silver flask. “Not too much, please,” she said mildly as she set the tray she and Rosa had assembled on a chair Nico had brought outside. “I can’t have him falling over while I’m working.”

  “Of course, signora.” Zwerger cleaned the mouth of the flask with his handkerchief and slipped it into a pocket in his jodhpur trousers.

  “Does he speak Italian?”

  “After a fashion. Enough to understand basic commands.”

  “Very well. I’ll start by cutting the remaining sutures and drawing them out. I’ll try to work quickly.” Snip, snip, snip went her scissors, and though the boy flinched when she pulled out the old stitches, he managed to stay still.

  Next she cleaned the wound, relying upon Nico to flood it with iodine and Rosa to rinse it with cool water from the kettle. “Can you see where the tissue has died back along the edge of the wound? I need to remove it. It shouldn’t be terribly painful, but it will likely turn your stomach if you watch. Can you look away?”

  She waited until Meier had turned his head and then she used the razor blade to trim away the necrotic flesh. “Almost there,” she promised. Now all that remained was to stitch the wound properly. “I know this is painful, but I am a good seamstress and you’ll barely have a scar.” It was true. Papà had made her practice on a ripe tomato, and if she could sew perfect stitches in its uncooperative flesh, she could set sutures in anything or anyone. “I’m almost done,” she promised. “The worst is very nearly over . . . almost there . . . done.”

  She finished with a final wash of iodine, then bandaged Meier’s hand so the thumb was well clear of his fingers. “There. Time for more of whatever was in that flask.”

  “Good German schnapps,” Zwerger said.

  “Ah. Well, not too much. I don’t want him to have a headache in the morning on top of everything else. You will remember what I said about keeping the wound clean and dry? And that he must avoid using the hand at all until the cut is well scabbed over?”

  Zwerger translated, and when he was done Meier looked up, a little woozily, and tried to smile at her. “Thank you, signora.”

  “We’re glad we were able to help,” Nico answered, saving her from a reply. “And I don’t mean to be inhospitable, Karl, but I’ve hours of work ahead of me still. Was there anything else you wanted?”

  “Not today, no.” Perhaps it was only wishful thinking, but had some of the bluster drained out of Zwerger’s manner?

  “Can you see a way to letting the boys stay here with us? My father is getting older, and we do need the help.”

  Zwerger nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on the tray in Nina’s hands. “For the time being, yes. I can help you with that.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for visiting. It was good to see you again.”

  It was a credit to Rosa’s patience that she waited at least five minutes after Zwerger’s departure before she turned on her brother.

  “You honestly thought it was good to see him again? A Nazi?”

  “Of course not. But I had just got the man to agree to leave the boys here with us. Being rude to him would have achieved nothing.”

  “I suppose you’re right. You just didn’t have to sound so . . . so fine about it.”

  “Nothing about what just happened was fine. Beginning with his forcing Nina to stitch that soldier’s wound.”

  “Do you think he’ll leave us alone now?”

  “Let’s pray that he does.”

  “DO YOU THINK he was here because of the people you’ve been helping?” she asked Nico in bed that night.

  Their room was achingly cold, and the hot bricks at their feet had long ago lost their warmth, and that, she told herself, was the only reason they now lay so close together, her face tucked close to his chest, his arm a welcome weight across her back.

  “No. If he’d suspected me of anything, he’d have brought enough men to reduce the farm to rubble. I honestly think he wanted to see what had become of me—and to have me see what had become of him.”

  “Truly? That’s all?”

  “Yes. Even so, he is with the SD, and they’re as depraved and vicious a group of men as you’ll ever find. Dannecker in particular. If Zwerger comes back and I’m not home, and especially if he’s with other men from the SD, I want you to go to the hiding place. Don’t hesitate—just go. I’ll leave the ladder under the bed so you can get up there by yourself. Promise me?”

  “I promise.”

  “I know we ought to be getting to sleep, but seeing him again . . . it threw me,” Nico admitted. “It’s been so long since I thought of those days.”

  “How did you end up being chosen for the priesthood? Or was it something you asked to do?”

  “If I’m honest, I was too young to know what I wanted. I’d done well in school, well enough for Father Bernardi to insist that I stay on for a few extra years. And then it just . . . happened. He asked my parents if they’d allow me to become a priest, and if they could manage if I went away to school, and of course they said yes. It was an honor beyond imagining for them.”

  “Did anyone ask you if you wanted it?”

  “Not in so many words. At least, not that I recall. I do remember being excited when they told me, especially since I knew it would take me away from the farm and what I saw as a lifetime of endless work. In that I wasn’t wrong.”

  “How long did you have to go to school for it?”

  “First I went to the college in Asolo. When I finished at eighteen, I went to the seminary in Padua. I was twenty-three when I came home.”


  “So you are twenty-six now? I thought you were older.”

  “I hope that’s a compliment.”

  “It is, silly.”

  “I was still about a year away from being ordained, but I’d been having doubts long before I left.”

  “Did you tell anyone?”

  “Only Father Bernardi. And for all that he’d been the one to put me forward for a place in the seminary, he was also the first to understand why I was happy to leave.”

  They lay in silence for some time, and then Nico’s arm tightened around her. “I have more news. There’s been a further edict.”

  “And?”

  “All Jews are to be arrested and interned in camps, and all their property is to be confiscated.”

  “When was it announced?” she asked, a spiral of dread slithering down her spine.

  “The day after Zwerger’s last visit. December first. When you said nothing about it I thought you might not have heard. I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “We didn’t have the radio on for a few nights. The electricity wasn’t working. Have there been more arrests?”

  “Yes. In every part of the country that’s under German control.”

  “What of Venice?”

  “I don’t know. I’m waiting to hear, but I have to be careful. If the wrong people learn that I’m asking questions we’re all done for. You know that.”

  “I know. I know, and I try not to bother you, but there are days I feel I’ll drown in it. All the worry and fear.”

  “If there is news I will find out eventually. And I promise to tell you.”

  “Even if it breaks my heart?” she whispered, her eyes hot with tears.

  “Even then, my Nina. Even then.”

  Chapter 14

  22 December 1943

  She wasn’t surprised when Nico woke her. The instant he touched her shoulder, she opened her eyes, fully alert, and dressed so quickly she was still a little breathless when she reached the kitchen.

  The strangers gathered at the table might have stepped from a centuries-old painting, the lamplight flickering like chiaroscuro upon their exhausted faces. They were huddled together, their backs against the wall, their chairs drawn close. There was a man and woman about Nina’s age, a toddler in the mother’s arms, and flanking them was an older couple, their faces so like the younger man’s that they had to be his parents.

 

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