by Wilbur Smith
What do we do now? Anna asked.
We go on, Centaine told her. Somehow, subtly she had taken charge, and Anna, increasingly indecisive with each mile between her and Mort Homme, plodded after her. They left the sprawling hospital area and turned southwards once again into the crowded roadway.
Ahead of them over the trees Centaine could make out the roofs and spires of the town of Arras against the fading evening sky.
Look, Anna! she pointed. There is the evening star we are allowed a wish. What is yours? Anna looked at her curiously. What had come over the child2 She had seen her father burned to death and her favourite animal mutilated barely two days before, and yet there was a ferocious gaiety about her. It was unnatural.
I wish for a bath and a hot meal Oh, Anna, you always ask for the impossible. Centaine smiled at her over her shoulder, transferring the heavy carpet bag from one hand to the other.
What is your wish, then? Anna challenged.
I wish that the star leads us to the general, like it led the three wise men- Don't blaspheme, girl. But Anna was too tired and uncertain for the rebuke to have real force behind it.
Centaine knew the town well, for it contained the convent where she had spent her schooldays. It was dark by the time they made their way through the town centre.
The fighting of the early years of the war had left terrible scars on the lovely seventeenth-century Flemish architecture. The picturesque old town hall was pocked with shrapnel splinters and part of the roof destroyed. Many of the gabled brick houses surrounding the Grande Place were also roofless and deserted, although the windows of others were candlelit. The more stubborn of the popu lotion had moved back again immediately the tides of war had rolled by.
Centaine had not made a special note of the way to the monastery that General Courtney was using as his headquarters when she had last visited it with Michael, so she could not hope to find it in the dark. She and Anna camped in a deserted cottage, eating the last scraps of stale bread and dried-out cheese from Anna's sack, using the carpet bag for a pillow and each other for warmth as they lay on the bare floor.
The next morning Centaine dreaded finding the monastery deserted when she finally rediscovered the lane leading to it, but there was a guard on the main gate.
Sorry, miss, Army property. Nobody goes in. She was still pleading with him when the black Rolls came racing down the lane behind her and braked as it reached the gates. It was coated with dried mud and dust, and there was a long ugly scratch down both the doors on the nearest side.
The guard recognized the pennant on the bonnet and waved the Zulu driver on, and the Rolls accelerated through the tall gates, but Centaine ran forward and shouted desperately after the car. In the back seat was the young officer she had met on her last visit.
Lieutenant Pearce! She remembered his name, and he glanced back, then looked startled as he recognized her.
Quickly he leaned across to speak to the driver, and the Rolls pulled up sharply and then reversed.
,Mademoiselle de Thiry! John Pearce jumped out and hurried to her. The last person I expected, what on earth are you doing here? I must see Michael's uncle, General Courtney.
It's important. He is not here at the moment, the young officer told her, but you can come with me. He should be back fairly soon, and in the meantime we'll find you a place to rest, and something to eat. It seems to me that you could use both He took Centaine's carpet bag from her. Come along - is this woman with you? Anna, my servant. She can sit in front with Sangane. He helped Centaine into the Rolls. The Germans have made it a pretty busy few days, he settled beside her on the soft leather, and it looks as though you have been through it as well. Centaine looked down at herself: her clothes were dusty and bedraggled, her hands were dirty and her fingernails had black half-moons under them. She could guess what her hair looked like.
I have just come back from the front. General Courtney went up to take a look for himself. John Pearce politely looked away as she tried to put her hair into place again. He likes to be right up there, still thinks he's fighting the Buer War, the old devil. We got as far as Mort Homme-'That is my village. Not any more, he told her grimly. It's German now, or almost so. The new front line runs just north of it, and the village is under fire. Most of it shot away already you wouldn't recognize it, I'm sure.
Centaine nodded again. My home was shelled and burned down.
I'm sorry. John Pearce went on quickly. Anyway, it looks as though we have stopped them. General Courtney is sure we can hold them at Mort Homme-'Where is the general? Staff meeting at Divisional HQ. He should be back later this evening. Ah, here we are. John Pearce found a monk's cell for them, and had a servant bring them a meal and two buckets of hot water.
once they had eaten, Anna stripped off Centaine's clothes, and then stood her over one of the buckets and sponged her down with hot water.
oh, that feels marvelous. For once there are no squeals, Anna muttered. She used her petticoat to dry Centaine, then slipped a clean shift from the carpet bag over her head and brushed out her hair. The thick dark curls were tangled.
Oh Id, Anna, that hurts! It was too good to last, Anna sighed.
When she had finished, she insisted that Centaine lie on the cot to rest while she bathed herself and washed out their soiled clothes. However, Centaine could not lie still and she sat up and hugged her knees.
Oh darling Anna, I have the most wonderful surprise for you- Anna twisted the thick grey horse-tail of her damp hair up on to her head and looked at Centaine quizzically.
Darling Anna, is it? It must be good news indeed. oh it is, it is! I'm going to have Michel's baby. Anna froze. The blood drained from her ruddy features, leaving them grey with shock, and she stared at Centaine, unable to speak.
It's going to be a boy, I'm sure of it. I can just feel it.
He will be just like Michel! How can you be sure? Anna blurted.
Oh, I am sure. Centaine knelt quickly and pulled up the shift. Look at my tummy, can't you just see, Anna? Her pale smooth stomach was flat as ever, with the neat dimple of the navel its only blemish. Centaine pushed it out strenuously.
Can't you see, Anna, It might even be twins, Michel's father and the general were twins. It may run in the family, think of it, Anna, two like Michel!
No, Anna shook her head, aghast. This is one of your fairy stories. I won't believe that you and that soldier-'Michel isn't a soldier, he's a- Centaine began, but Anna went on, I won't believe that a daughter of the house of de Thiry allowed a common soldier to use her like a kitchen maid. Allowed, Anna! Centaine pulled down her shift angrily. I didn't allow it, I helped him do it. He didn't seem to know what to do, at first, so I helped him, and we worked it out beautifully. Anna clapped both hands over her ears. I don't believe it, I'm not going to listen. Not after I taught you to be a lady, I just won't listen. Then what do you think we were doing at night when I went out to meet him, you know I went out, you and Papa caught me at it, didn't you? My baby! wailed Anna. He took advantage-'Nonsense, Anna, I loved it. I loved every little thing he did to me. Oh no! I won't believe it. Besides, you couldn't possibly know, not so soon. You are teasing old Anna. You are being wicked and cruel."You know how I've been sick in the morning."That doesn't prove- The doctor, Bobby Clarke, the army doctor.
He examined me. He told me. Anna was struck dumb at last, there was no more protests. It was inescapable: the child had been out at night, she had been sick in the morning, and Anna believed implicitly in the infallibility of doctors. Then there was Centaine's strange and unnatural elation in the face of all her adversity, it was inescapable.
It's true, then, she capitulated. Oh, what are we going to do? Oh, the good Lord save us from scandal and disgrace, what are we going to do?
Do, Anna? Centaine laughed at her theatrical lamentations. We are going to have the most beautiful baby boy, or if we are lucky, two of them, and I'm going to need you to help me care for them. You will help me, won't you, Anna? I know nothing a
bout babies, and you know everything. Anna's first shock passed swiftly, and she began to consider not the disgrace and scandal, but the existence of a real live infant; it was over seventeen years since she had experienced that joy. Now, miraculously, she was being promised another infant. Centaine saw the change in her, the first stirrings of maternal passion.
You are going to help me with our baby. You won't leave us, we need you, the baby and ! Anna, promise me, please promise me, and Anna flew to the cot and swept Centaine into her arms and held her with all her strength, and Centaine laughed with joy in her crushing embrace.
It was after dark when John Pearce knocked again at the door of the monk's cell.
The general has returned, Mademoiselle de Thiry. I have told him you are here, and he wishes to speak to you as soon as possible. Centaine followed the aide-de-camp down the cloisters and into the large refectory which had been converted into the regimental operations room. Half a dozen officers were poring over the large-scale map that had been spread over one of the refectory tables. The map was porcupined with coloured pins, and the atmosphere in the room was tense and charged.
As Centaine entered, the officers glanced up at her, but young and pretty girl could not hold their attention even a for more than a few seconds and they returned to their tasks.
On the far side of the room, General Sean Courtney was standing with his back to her. His jacket, resplendent with red tabs and insignia and ribbons, hung over the chair on which he was resting one booted foot. He leaned his elbow on his knee and scowled furiously at the earpiece of a field telephone from which a faint distorted voice quacked at him.
Sean wore a woollen singlet with sweat-stained armpits and marvellously flamboyant embroidered braces, decorated with stags and running hounds, over his shoulders.
He was chewing on an unlit Havana cigar, and suddenly he bellowed into the field telephone without removing the cigar from his mouth.
That is utter horseshit! I was there myself two hours ago. I know! I need at least four more batteries Of 25 pounders in that gap, and I need them before dawn, don't give me excuses, just do it, and tell me when it's done!
He slammed down the hand-set, and saw Centaine.
My dear, his voice altered and he came to her quickly and took her hand. I was worried. The chateau has been completely destroyed. The new front line runs not a mile beyond it- He paused, and studied her for a moment.
What he saw reassured him and he asked, Your father?
She shook her head. He was killed in the shelling. I'm sorry, Sean said simply, and turned to John Pearce. Take Miss de Thiry through to my quarters. Then to her, I will follow you in five minutes. The general's room opened directly into the main refectory, so that with the door open Sean Courtney could lie on his cot and watch everything that went on in his operations room. It was sparsely furnished, just the cot and a desk with two chairs, and his locker at the foot of the cot.
Won't you sit here, Mademoiselle? John Pearce offered her one of the chairs, and while she waited, Centaine glanced round the small room.
The only item of interest was the desk. On it stood a hinged photograph frame, one leaf of which contained the picture of a magnificent mature woman, with dark Jewish beauty. It was inscribed across the bottom corner, Come home safely to your loving wife, Ruth. The second leaf of the frame held the picture of a girl of about Centaine's age. The resemblance to the older woman was apparent, they could only be mother and daughter, but the girl's beauty was marred by a petulant, spoiled expression; the pretty mouth had a hard, acquisitive quirk to it, and Centaine decided that she did not like her very much at all.
My wife and daughter, Sean Courtney said from the doorway. He had put on his jacket and was buttoning it as he came in.
You have eaten? he asked as he sank into the chair opposite Centaine.
Yes, thank you. Centaine stood up and picked up the silver box of Vestas from the desk, struck one and held it for him to light the Havana. He looked surprised, then leaned forward and sucked the flame into the tip of the cigar. When it was well lit, he leaned back in the chair and said, My daughter, Storm, does that for me. Centaine blew out the match, sat down again and waited quietly for him to enjoy the first few puffs of fragrant smoke. He had aged since their last meeting, or perhaps it was only that he was very tired, she thought. When did you last sleep? she asked, and he grinned.
Suddenly, he looked thirty years younger. You sound like my wife."She is very beautiful.
Yes, Sean nodded and glanced at the photograph, then back to Centaine. You have lost everything, he said.
The chateau, my home, and my father She tried to be calm, not let the terrible hurt show.
You have other family, of course. Of course, she agreed. My uncle lives in Lyon, and I have two aunts in Paris. I will arrange for you to travel to Lyon.
No.
Why not? He looked piqued at her abrupt refusal.
I don't want to go to Lyon, or Paris. I am going to Africa. Africa? Now he was taken aback. Africa? Good Lord, why Africa? Because I promised Michel, we promised each other we would go to Africa. But, my dear- He dropped his eyes, and studied the ash of his cigar. She saw the pain that the mention of Michael's name inflicted, she shared it with him for a moment, and then said, You were going to say, "But Michel is dead. He nodded. Yes. His voice was almost a whisper. I promised Michel something else, General. I told him that his son would be born in the sunshine of Africa. Slowly Sean lifted his head and stared at her. Michael's son? His son. You are bearing Michael's child? Yes, All the stupid mundane questions rushed to his lips. Are you sure? How can you be certain? How do I know it's Michael's child? And he bit them back. He had to have time to think to adjust to this incredible twist of fate.
Excuse me. He stood up and limped back into the operations room.
Are we in contact with the third battalion yet? he demanded of the group of officers.
We had them for a minute, then lost them again. They are ready to counter-attack, sir, but they need artillery support. Get on to those damned shell wallahs again, and keep trying to get through to Caithness. He turned to another of his staff. Roger, what is happening to the First? No change, sir.
They have broken two enemy attacks, but they are taking a beating from the German guns.
Colonel Stevens thinks they can hold. Good man! Sean grunted. It was like trying to close the leaks in a dyke holding back the ocean with handfuls of clay, but somehow they were doing it, and every hour they held on was blunting the cutting edge of the German attack.
The guns are the key, if we can get them up soon enough. How is the traffic on the main road? Clearing and moving faster, it seems, sir. If they could move the 25-pounders into the gap before morning, then they could make the enemy pay dearly for their gains. They would have them in a salient, they could hit them from three sides, pound them with artillery.
Sean felt his spirits droop again. This was a war of guns, it all came back in the end to the bloody attrition of the guns. At the front of his mind Sean made the calculations, assessed the risks and the costs and gave the orders, but behind that he was making other calculations. He was thinking of the girl and her claims upon him.
Firstly he had to control his natural reaction to what she had told him, for Sean was a son of Victoria, and he expected all people, but especially his own family, to live by the code that had been set in the previous century. Of course, young men were expected to sow their wild oats - by God, Sean himself had sown them by the barrowload, and he grinned shamefacedly at the memory. But decent young men left decent young girls alone, until after they were married.
I'm shocked, he realized, and smiled again. The officers at the operations table saw the smile and looked puzzled and uneasy. What is the old devil up to now? They exchanged nervous glances.
Have you got hold of Colonel Caithness yet? Sean covered the smile with a ferocious scowl, and they applied themselves diligently to their tasks once more.
I'm shocked,
Sean told himself again, still amused at himself but this time keeping his face impassive. And yet Michael himself was your own love-baby, the fruit of one of your escapades. Your first-born- The pain of Michael's death assailed him again, but he drove it back.
Now, the girl. He began to think it out. Is she really pregnant, or is this some elaborate form of blackmail? It did not take him more than a few seconds to decide.
I can't be that wrong in my estimate of her. She truly believes she is pregnant. There were areas of the female anatomy and the feminine mind that were completely alien terrain to Sean. He had learned, however, that when a girl believed she was pregnant, she sure as all hell was.
How she knew escaped him, but he was prepared to accept it. All right, she's pregnant, but is it Michael's child, and not some other young- Again his rejection of the idea was swift. She's a child of a decent family, carefully guarded by her father and that dragon of hers. How she and Michael managed it beats me- He almost grinned again as he recalled how often and how adroitly he had managed it in his youth, against equally fearsome odds. The ingenuity of young love He shook his head. All right, I accept it. It's Michael's child. Michael's son! And only then did he allow the joy to rise in him. Michael's son! Something of Michael still lives on. Then he cautioned himself quickly. Steady on now, don't let's go overboard. She wants to come out to Africa, but what the hell are we going to do with her? I can't take her in at Emoyeni. For a moment the image appeared in his mind of the beautiful home on the hill, The place of the wind in Zulu, which he had built for his wife. The longing to be back there with her came powerfully upon him.
He had to fight it off and apply himself to the immediate problems again.
Three of them, three pretty girls, all of them proud and strong-willed, living in the same house. Instinctively he knew that this little French girl and his own beloved but lovingly indulged daughter would fight like two wild cats in a sack. He shook his head. By God, that would be the perfect recipe for disaster, and I wouldn't be there to turn them over my knee. I've got to come up with thing better than that. What in the name of all that is holy do we do with this pregnant little filly? Sir! Sir! one of his officers called, and offered Sean the head-set of the field telephone. I've got through to Colonel Caithness at last. Sean snatched the set from him. Douglas!
