They had become lovers for the first time the previous night. Clothilde knew that it was the only way she could go with him to his new posting and something inside had driven her on. Kurt was a passionate lover and she had not regretted her decision, even though she knew she would be condemned for sleeping with a man who was an enemy of France. She did not love him, but sometimes she thought she would never love anyone other than Andre – a love that could never be returned.
“I love you, Clothilde. I know it is hard for you to believe – but you mean a great deal to me, more than you might imagine.”
“Then I shall be faithful to you for as long as I can.” She glanced up at the sky and shivered as she saw dark clouds had gathered. “It’s turning cooler. Should we go?”
“Yes. I suppose we ought to be leaving.” He stood up when she did, catching her arm as she began to gather up the remains of the food, swinging her against him, pulling her close to the lean hardness of his body. “My love is no light thing, Clothilde. One day you will discover that.”
She gave herself up to his kiss. Kurt was demanding as a lover and she enjoyed being with him. He had helped to fill the emptiness inside her. Perhaps she was just a little in love with him, or she might have been if she allowed herself to love anyone. But she would never love, because loving always led to pain and grief. Her mother had died alone and in terrible distress because a man had deserted her. She too had loved once, but Andre had not loved her enough. And she might have loved Auguste if the Germans had not killed him. No, it was better this way, better to live one day at a time; to give too much of herself was to invite pain.
“You think I do not quite trust you because you are German?” She saw the hurt in his eyes and touched her finger to his lips. “No do not look so sad. This is the cross we must bear, Kurt – we are on opposite sides. You might have to choose one day.”
“Be careful, Clothilde. Von Sturmbakker is devious and not to be trusted. I think he is planning something. I am not sure exactly – but I have seen him staring at you, and there is an odd expression in his eyes. I sense something…”
“Yes, I know this. But it was so from the start. He has a purpose for me. At first I believed he wanted to sleep with me, but it was not that simple.”
“He worries me…” Kurt frowned, hesitating for a moment as if half afraid to voice his thoughts. “I have thought that he enjoys his work too much.”
“I believe he is evil…” Clothilde crossed herself hastily. “Do you believe in pure evil as a force, Kurt? I think I do…”
“I’ve heard whispers of torture,” Kurt said. “It may be necessary sometimes in war but one should not enjoy it the way he does.”
“Yes, he would…” She shivered but the chill was inside her, a warning that something was wrong. The feeling had been with her for some days but she had tried to shrug it off, now it was stronger, more urgent. “Let’s go. Are you allowed to tell me where we are going now?”
“It is not so very far from Paris – Chateau Chambray, the home of a man called Auguste Picard. He was killed…” Kurt stopped as he saw her expression of pain. “You knew him?”
“Auguste was my friend. He wanted to marry me, but I refused him. I attended his funeral at the chateau. I believe his daughter and mother still live there – or have they been sent away?”
“I understand the old woman is dead. There was an unfortunate accident when we took over the property a few weeks back…”
“What happened to her?”
Kurt looked ashamed, as though he wished to disassociate himself with what had been done. He could not meet Clothilde’s eyes as he said, “I have been told that Madame Picard had a shotgun. She killed three soldiers before she was shot herself.”
“Mercy on us! God rest her soul…” Clothilde closed her eyes, feeling sick inside. Madame Picard was a cold, proud woman, and had resented Clothilde’s presence at Auguste’s funeral, but she had not deserved such a cruel death. “What of Helene?”
“I believe she is still there. I think she may be a hostage, for the good behaviour of the estate workers. Sturmbakker was vague about the situation. I have been told that there is a strong Resistance network in the village, but so far there have been no major attacks on our patrols. It is thought that they may be waiting for something…a signal perhaps.”
Clothilde nodded but made no comment. She remembered very clearly the words Helene had spoken at her father’s funeral; she had vowed to resist the German invaders to the last. What must she feel now that her grandmother had been brutally killed?
Her blood chilled as she recalled the slip Kurt had made a few days previously, when he had told her that a member of the Resistance was about to betray her comrades. Could that possibly be Helene? Had she been beaten and tortured until she could stand no more – or was that the reason Sturmbakker had been summoned from Paris? Had he been ordered to break Helene, to torture her until she confessed the names of her friends?
It all made frightening sense. Clothilde’s stomach clenched as she thought how neatly it fitted. Did Von Sturmbakker know of her relationship with Auguste? Was she to be used against Helene in some way? She had a growing certainty that she was to be involved somehow in this affair.
Kurt was looking at her anxiously. Did he have any idea of what was going on? Or was he being used as much as she was?
“You must hate us,” he said, and his voice shook with feeling. “What we’ve done to you – the French – you must all hate us.”
“I hate what is happening to my country. I hate it when men are dragged from their homes and taken away or shot in reprisal. I hate Von Sturmbakker and his kind – but I don’t hate you, Kurt. I care for you – you are my friend.”
“I shall protect you, Clothilde. If he tries to hurt you, I shall prevent it somehow.”
Clothilde laughed. “You worry too much. Von Sturmbakker is an evil man but he is nothing. Forget him and make love to me.”
“Here – in the woods?” Kurt seemed almost shocked.
“Why not?” Her eyes danced with mischief. “Take the moment, Kurt. It can never be recalled…”
“Ah…Clothilde.” Major Von Sturmbakker's cold eyes went over her with satisfaction. “It is always a delight to greet you. I am so glad you were able to give us the pleasure of your company once more.”
Clothilde repressed the shudder that ran through her as he took her hand, lifting it briefly to his lips.
“It is a pleasure to be here, major. I must tell you that I have visited the chateau before.”
“Yes, so I understand. Mademoiselle Picard informed me that you attended her father’s funeral. I believe you had a relationship with him?”
“We were friends for a few months. Had he lived I might have married him.”
“And this might have been your home.” Von Sturmbakker waved his hand to indicate their surroundings. They were in a large, elegant salon decorated in crimson and gold with Louis X1V gilt furniture and huge mirrors on the walls. Clothilde was relieved to see that the room was as it had been when she had seen it last. Nothing had been damaged or removed. “As you see, we are not barbarians, Clothilde. We appreciate beauty for its own sake.”
“It is good to see that the chateau remains as it was, major – but may I inquire about Mademoiselle Picard?”
“You are concerned for her perhaps? You are friends?”
“We are not enemies,” Clothilde replied carefully. “I merely ask if she still lives here?”
“In a manner of speaking…” He flicked an invisible piece of fluff from the sleeve of his uniform. Clothilde’s stomach clenched as she waited for him to speak. He frightened her; he frightened her more than anyone she had ever met. “There was an unfortunate incident when my predecessor arrived here. Madame Picard resisted when asked to hand over the chateau formally…but Helene is still our guest. I believe she is comfortable, though we have been obliged to prevent her leaving the chateau. You will see her this evening. I have asked her to di
ne with us. As you know, I admire lovely women. If Mademoiselle Picard is sensible she has nothing to fear from me.”
There was something odd in his manner at that moment, a glitter in his eyes that caused Clothilde to wonder just what was going on in his devious mind.
She took a deep breath before asking, “Would it be possible for me to see Helene?”
Von Sturmbakker's eyes narrowed, studying her in silence for a moment and then he smiled. “But of course. You are both our guests. I have arranged for your own room to be quite near Mademoiselle Picard's so that you will feel more comfortable. You are in the older part of the chateau, away from my officers and quite private.”
The prickling sensation at her nape became almost painful. Clothilde had imagined she would be staying with Kurt, possibly in separate accommodation on the estate or in the village – but definitely with Kurt. She glanced at him and saw his frown of annoyance. Obviously this was not what he had expected or wanted, but he made no protest and she followed his example.
“You are very thoughtful, major. Perhaps I could go to my room? I should like to wash – and to speak to Helene. If that is permitted?”
“Certainly.” He snapped his fingers and a servant entered promptly. “Please take Mademoiselle Sanclere to her room.”
“I shall see you later, Clothilde.”
There was an anxious expression in Kurt’s eyes as she passed him. She sensed that he was puzzled. So perhaps Von Sturmbakker was also using him.
She smiled at Kurt but made no reply. Her nerve ends were tingling. Something wasn’t quite right. Von Sturmbakker had tried to hide his excitement but he hadn’t been able to conceal it from Clothilde. She was certain that something unpleasant was going to happen very soon – something she suspected he had been planning for months.
Clothilde decided to change her clothes before going in search of Helene. She felt hot and sticky after her journey, and she wanted a few minutes to reflect. Her instincts told her she was in danger, and she would need to keep her wits about her.
Major Von Sturmbakker was planning something but as yet she had no clue – except that she was almost certain it concerned the Resistance. Had she betrayed herself in some way? She had faithfully reported all the information she had picked up at his parties, passing it on to Andre, and Sturmbakker was quite capable of working out where the leak was coming from…So why hadn’t he acted before?
A chill ran through her as she wondered if she had been meant to hear those snippets of information – if that was the reason she had been invited to the parties in the first place. Had Von Sturmbakker been watching her all the time? Watching and waiting for his opportunity – but what was it he wanted? He could have had her arrested at any time, but he hadn’t – why?
Clothilde’s stomach clenched with fear as she wondered if she had endangered Andre's life. It would not take a clever man long to discover who her contact was…and whom he contacted in turn…each of them betraying others without knowing it.
She closed her eyes, blotting out the picture that came vividly to mind – a picture of Andre being beaten and tortured. No! She would not believe that, she could not, dare not. She had always been so careful not to be seen, waiting until the church was empty before entering the confessional. Yet she seemed to remember an old woman sitting in the shadows when she came out…
She was brushing her hair before the mirror, trying to sort it all out in her mind and making no sense of anything, when someone knocked at the door and then entered without waiting for an invitation.
“Is it all right?” Helene asked, shutting the door hurriedly behind her. “I wanted to talk to you. I am watched all the time. I think they may have a way of listening to everything I say in my room.”
“Yes, of course. I was coming to see you in a few minutes. Major Von Sturmbakker gave me permission.”
Helene glanced over her shoulder, clearly nervous. “Do you trust him?”
“No – but he seems to be allowing us some freedom at the moment. Come into the bathroom, Helene. We shall turn on the taps. If anyone is listening they will not be able to hear us clearly over the sound of the water.” Her eyes went over the other girl, noting the shadows beneath her eyes and her loss of weight. “How are you? I was sorry to hear about Madame Picard…”
Helene’s eyelids flickered as if she were too distressed to think about the death of her grandmother. “She was so brave, Clothilde. She resisted to the last. I begged her to let them come without resistance…” They were in the bathroom now, the taps turned on full blast. “It is much better to act in secret.” Again she hesitated, glancing over her shoulder as if fearing interruption at any time. “I have been working for France, but now I can do nothing.”
“You are a prisoner here?”
“I was locked in my room until Major Von Sturmbakker came. Now I am permitted to use certain areas of the chateau, but I cannot leave the house.”
“You have been told this since he arrived?” Helene nodded. “And you want to leave?”
“I would escape if I could…” Helene swallowed hard, her face pale with exhaustion and fear. “But I am not sure where I could go…”
“Surely your friends would hide you? Get you away to a place where you were not known – or out of the country? You must have someone who would help you?”
“Perhaps…there are those who could get me away, but I have no way of getting a message to them.”
Clothilde was silent for a moment, then, “Supposing I was able to contact them for you?”
“But it would be dangerous. If you were caught you would be shot – perhaps tortured.”
“I could be shot at any time,” Clothilde replied with a little shrug. “You are not the only one who loves France.”
“Have you worked for the Resistance? No – do not tell me! It is best that I do not know.” Helene’s hand trembled as she reached out to Clothilde. “I think…I think they may torture me. I was questioned every day for a week after Grandmere was killed, given no chance to sleep and no food, but I did not break. Then my jailer was suddenly withdrawn. They gave me food and let me sleep – then Von Sturmbakker arrived. I am to be treated well if I am sensible…” Helene gave a little sob of fear. “But I think I am to be tortured.”
“Do you know much they want to know?” Helene’s face was strained as she nodded. “Then we have to get you out of here before that happens. We can’t risk other people’s lives.”
“You mean you will help me?”
“I shall try,” Clothilde promised. “How can I contact your friends?”
“You would need to get to the village…”
“I can probably manage that. Kurt will take me if I say I need something from the shop – or just for a drive.”
“He is a German officer?”
“Yes. He is my lover – but that does not mean I have sold out to the Germans. My heart belongs to France…”
“I am not sure that I should trust you…” Helene looked at her uncertainly. “How do I know that you will not betray us?”
“Believe me, Helene. My friendship with the Germans is not all it seems.”
“You mean…Yes, I understand. I shall ask no questions. I’ll give you a name…” She broke off, looking startled as they heard someone knock at the bedroom door and then a man’s voice asking for Clothilde. “Who is that?”
“Turn off the taps quickly,” Clothilde said, pushing Helene back into the bedroom. “I shall answer the door to him.” She went to the door and opened it, inviting Kurt in with a smile. “Come in – I want you to meet Mademoiselle Picard. Helene, this is my friend Captain Kurt Von Secker.”
Kurt bowed his head. “It is an honour to meet you, Mademoiselle Picard.”
“Helene came to see if I was comfortable, Kurt. She still feels this is her home, though of course she is no longer responsible for the hospitality offered to its guests.”
“I must go,” Helene said seeming nervous again. “I shall hope to see you this e
vening, Clothilde.”
“Yes, of course. We shall be company for each other…”
Kurt’s gaze narrowed as Helene left the room. “Did she seek you out, Clothilde?”
“Yes. I was about to go in search of her, but she came to me. She was obviously told I was to be a guest here.”
“I wonder why? I sense something is wrong. This wasn’t what I’d planned, Clothilde. I had thought I would take rooms for you in the village…”
“Perhaps you will take me there sometimes? I remember from my last visit that it is quite pretty, with a small bar where we could drink wine and a shop…” She took a deep breath. “I do not think we should disregard Major Sturmbakker’s offer of hospitality, do you? I think he would not be pleased.”
“You know there may be times when I shall not be at the chateau? I would be happier if you were lodged in the village.”
“We must see how things go…”
Clothilde was uneasy at being obliged to remain at the chateau as Von Sturmbakker’s guest, but she needed access to Helene for the moment. If Auguste’s daughter was in danger of being tortured…it did not bear thinking about. She owed it to her lover’s memory to do what she could for Helene. Somehow she must get her away from this place before it was too late.
Clothilde glanced round the dining table. She and Helene were the only two women present amongst a dozen German officers. It was hardly surprising that Helene was looking pale and anxious, though on the face of things she seemed to be treated well enough. Von Sturmbakker was playing the polite, concerned host to perfection. A stranger looking in at the scene would imagine they were both the honoured guests that he claimed them to be.
“So – Clothilde.” Von Sturmbakker seemed to dwell on her name. She sensed that he was enjoying himself, as if relishing whatever he had in mind for her. “What do you plan to do with yourself while you are here?”
“I shall have a holiday, major. A little reading, good company, some music perhaps…a walk to the village now and then…If that is permitted?”
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