When they arrived at last at the mother house, they were taken at once to see Mother Magdalene. One look at Mother Marie-Pierre’s face was enough to tell her things were seriously wrong. She sent Sister Danielle and Marthe, whom she still assumed to be a novice, off to settle the children in the guest quarters and then sat Mother Marie-Pierre down to hear why she had come. She was a good listener and she heard Mother Marie-Pierre out without interruption.
“You did right to bring them to me,” she said at last. “They will be safe here. I will get papers for little Margot, and they can live with us here as long as is necessary. We have ten other children here in the orphanage with us already. They will soon fit in and feel at home.”
“What about Marthe?” asked Mother Marie-Pierre. “She cannot go on disguised as a novice. Father Bernard, in Amiens, saw at once that she was not a nun, and she herself is not at all happy with the deception. I had great difficulty getting her to wear the habit, even as a disguise.”
“You say she used to work in the hospital as a lay worker?” Mother Magdalene asked.
“Yes. Sister Eloise says she has the makings of a good nurse.”
“Then there is no problem,” Mother Magdalene said serenely. “She can work with us as a lay sister, and I will try and get her trained properly as a nurse so that she can support herself outside the convent.”
Mother Marie-Pierre joined the sisters in their chapel that evening and again in the morning for Mass, and then she set off for the station and the journey home.
“Won’t you stay a few days?” suggested Mother Magdalene. “Just till the children settle in?”
“No, Mother, I can’t. The sisters in St Croix need me. But if you’ll keep Sister Danielle for a week or two, that will make the transition for the younger ones a little easier.”
It was agreed, though Sister Danielle was anxious about Mother Marie-Pierre travelling back to St Croix on her own.
“Don’t be silly, Sister,” Mother Marie-Pierre said briskly. “If the trains run on time, I shall be home before dark.”
She was lucky, there were no delays and she managed to hitch a lift from Albert to the village on a carrier’s cart, so she didn’t even have the long walk back to St Croix. She was back at the convent by late afternoon.
She was greeted by Sister Celestine, who, on opening the door, cried out in relief to see her.
“Oh Mother, thank God you are home.”
Mother Marie-Pierre looked startled at her tone. “Why, Sister, whatever is the matter?”
Sister Celestine seemed about to tell her something but then hesitated and replied rather lamely. “Nothing, Mother. I mean, Sister Marie-Paul asked me to say that she needs to speak to you as soon as you get home.”
“I see.” Mother Marie-Pierre raised an eyebrow. “Then you’d better run and tell her I’m back. I shall be in my office.”
12
As the reverend mother and the children trundled out of the village square in Jean Danot’s farm cart, Colonel Hoch strode back into the Gestapo headquarters calling to his aide, Lieutenant Weber.
“I don’t trust that nun,” he snapped as the man came into the office to join him. “She’s up to something.”
Weber knew his officer well enough not to question this statement, though privately he doubted that the reverend mother was up to anything. After all, what could a nun do?
“Find Major Thielen,” Hoch said, “and then come back here.”
Major Thielen entered the room to find the colonel pacing the floor.
“That nun, the one who came here about the Jews the other day,” Hoch said. “I don’t trust her. She’s just set off to Paris with a cartload of children.”
“But surely, Colonel, you searched the cart before they left the village,” Thielen said tentatively. He had watched the whole thing from his window and had been very relieved when there proved to be nothing concealed in the cart. He disliked Colonel Hoch and he disliked his tactics. Everything Hoch did antagonised the local population. Occupation was not easy and Major Thielen, although authoritarian himself, had tried, to some extent, to work with the local people. Co-operation backed up with information from whoever was prepared to provide it was his preferred method. He was aware that there were pockets of resistance in the area, and information encouraged and bought was far more useful than Hoch’s arrogant approach. That was more likely to harden that resistance than to defeat it.
Hoch was, Thielen thought bitterly, as he’d watched him search the cart, the worst type of upstart; a bully, not a true army officer, but one of what Thielen privately called Himmler’s gang. He found now, as they stood face-to-face, that he had to school his features well to hide his loathing of the man.
“I don’t trust her,” repeated the colonel. “Who searched the convent?”
“I did, sir. I had ten men with me and we searched the place from top to bottom.”
“And what did you find?” demanded Hoch.
“Nothing, sir. There was nothing out of the ordinary. We searched the hospital, the chapel, the cellars, everywhere.”
“And this nun, this reverend mother? How did she behave?”
“Some of the sisters were afraid when we arrived, but she calmed them down and then led me round the convent.”
“Did she indeed?” Hoch considered for a moment and then spoke to Weber. “Franz, I think we should pay another visit to this convent, a surprise one while the reverend mother is away. Bring twenty men and then fetch my car.” He turned back to Major Thielen. “You, Thielen, give me the geography of the place. How many entrances? What’s the place like at the back?”
Major Thielen considered. “There’s a courtyard behind the main building, which has a high wall round it,” he said. “The hospital has been built on there. In the courtyard there are some outbuildings, a shed, a henhouse, that sort of thing, and there is a door into the kitchen. There is also a little walled garden.”
Hoch nodded. “I assume your men searched these outbuildings.”
Thielen stared woodenly ahead of him. “Of course, sir.”
“Right, well, we’ll search them again. They won’t be expecting us back again so soon, and without that reverend mother there things may be easier. You, Thielen, will stay here to receive the reports from those still searching the outlying farms.”
Hoch strode out of the building into the square, leaving Major Thielen fuming in his office.
The men Hoch had sent for were formed up, waiting.
“We are going to search the convent again,” he snapped. “I shall arrive at the front door, and as soon as it is open, ten of you will go straight in and search the main building. You know the drill, look for any possible hiding places, pay particular attention to the cellars. The rest of you will have approached the place from the back. When you get the signal, you go in that way. There is a door in the courtyard wall. Break it down if you have to. Search the outhouses—they are just the sort of place a Jew might hide. Go into the hospital, check every patient.
“Remember, this convent is an old building, there may well be secret places where someone could be hidden. Those two Jews are still at large and I want them found. I’ll have no escaped Jews on my patch.” He looked at the men standing in front of him. “You”— he pointed to the group on the left—”will go in from the back with Lieutenant Weber. Remember, surprise is vital. We don’t want them to have time to hide anyone. And also remember that if they learn to be afraid of us now, we shall have less trouble with them later. Heil Hitler!” He turned to the lieutenant. “I’ll give you twenty minutes to get your men into position, Weber, and then I shall drive up to the front door with mine. I will fire my pistol into the air, that is your signal to go in.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “If the nuns are scared of us, so much the better. You understand, Franz?”
Weber nodded and then saluted.
“Twenty minutes, Franz, and wait for my signal.”
Weber led his men off, through the square a
nd up the track through the copse leading to the back of the convent. Hoch sent one of the waiting men to fetch a lorry, and the rest of the search party scrambled into it. It would be difficult for a group of men to approach the front of the convent unnoticed on foot, so Hoch decided that they should all arrive at once, giving as little warning as possible. He needed this raid to be a success.
He had been working in Berlin on the personal staff of Heinrich Himmler when he had received the unexpected and unwelcome posting to this rural part of occupied France. His great fear was that someone, back there in Berlin, had discovered his darkest secret—that his paternal grandmother had been a Jew. She was safely dead now of course, but that didn’t mean that someone jealous of his swift rise through the ranks of the SS had not murmured the fact into the ears of those high in the Nazi party, even to Himmler himself. Hoch’s promotions had come fast, but this sudden, downward move told him that he was regarded with suspicion. Why else would such a potential high-flyer be sent to such a backwater? Hoch knew, with deadly certainty, that he must prove himself a merciless predator, his prey the Jews. There had been some trouble with resistance groups in the area, as well, and those he was also determined to root out and destroy, but his main prey were the Jews, for failure to destroy them might lead to his own destruction.
Hoch climbed into the black Citroën he had requisitioned from the mayor, and his driver pulled away, the lorry lumbering in his wake. When they drew up outside the convent front door, Hoch jumped down, and running up the steps hammered on the great front door while the lorry disgorged its load behind him. When the grille in the door was drawn aside and Sister Celestine peered out, she found herself looking down the barrel of a pistol.
“Open the door,” Hoch snarled at her, and had the satisfaction of hearing the bolts being drawn on the inside. He raised his pistol and fired it once in the air, and as the door swung open he stepped inside pushing roughly past the frightened nun who had opened it.
“Carry on,” he barked at the men who swarmed in behind him. They fanned out through the convent, several rushing up the staircase, others disappearing down the corridors leading to the kitchens and the children’s wing, their boots echoing on the stone floors.
“Please…” began Sister Celestine bravely, but fell silent as Hoch raised his pistol and pointed it at her again.
“Who is in charge here?” he demanded.
“Reverend Mother is away,” said Sister Celestine, pale-faced and shaken.
“I’m well aware of that,” said Hoch. “So, who is in charge now?”
“Sister Marie-Paul?” Sister Celestine sounded doubtful.
“Then you’d better take me to her.”
He replaced the pistol in its holster and followed the frightened nun along a corridor to the small room that served the novice mistress as an office. On reaching the door, Hoch barged past Sister Celestine and flung the door open. Sister Marie-Paul was kneeling at her prie-dieu and looked up startled at the intrusion. When she saw the large SS officer standing on the threshold she leapt to her feet and shrank back against the wall. This show of fear gave Hoch another jolt of satisfaction. He knew he had been right to come to the convent when the reverend mother was not there. Clearly this woman, second in command as she might be, had not the strength of personality to demand things of him as the other one had done.
“Good day, Sister,” Hoch said. “I am Colonel Hoch of the SS. My men are searching for two escaped prisoners. You will have nothing against them searching the convent, I am sure.”
With the shock of seeing him standing over her absorbed a little, Sister Marie-Paul straightened her back. “Of course not, though I am afraid the reverend mother is not here to escort you.”
“That doesn’t matter,” he replied equably. “I don’t need an escort. My men will search and then I wish to speak to you again. This,” he glanced over his shoulder to where Sister Celestine still cowered behind him, “this sister tells me you are in charge of the convent while your mother superior is away.”
“I and one other,” said Sister Marie-Paul, her courage trickling back and her face loosing its pallor of fear. “Sister Eloise, the sister in charge of the hospital.”
“Then I suggest we find this Sister Eloise. I wish to speak to you both. Please send for her… at once.”
“Certainly I will tell her you would like to speak with her,” said Sister Marie-Paul. “Perhaps we should go to the guest parlour, where we can be more comfortable.” She turned to Sister Celestine, still hovering in the background. “Please ask Sister Eloise to come to the parlour, Sister.”
The little nun ducked her head and disappeared down the passage almost at the run, followed at a more leisurely pace by Colonel Hoch and Sister Marie-Paul. She led him to the parlour beside the front door. The parlour door already stood open, and it was clear that the room had been searched. The small cupboard doors stood open, the chairs had been tipped over and the picture of Christ displaying His Sacred Heart had been taken from the wall as if someone had been looking behind it.
For a moment Sister Marie-Paul surveyed the scene, and Hoch watched her reaction. She said nothing, simply righted the chairs and replaced the picture on its hook above the prie-dieu.
“I am sure that none of your community is stupid enough to get involved in affairs which don’t concern them,” Hoch remarked as he went to the window and looked out. As instructed, one man was stationed outside, his rifle trained on the front door in case anyone eluding the search made a break for it. There would be another man posted in the courtyard.
He turned back to Sister Marie-Paul. “So,” he said, “and where has your reverend mother gone?”
“To Paris,” she replied. “We have so many coming into the hospital now that we will have to extend it into the children’s wing. Mother has taken the children to our convent in Paris. It also runs an orphanage and there is room for them there.”
“I see.” It was the same story that the reverend mother had told, but Hoch was not surprised at that. Clearly that was the story that had been agreed. “How many children were there?” he asked casually.
“Six, no, seven,” Sister Marie-Paul corrected herself hastily.
“You don’t know?” Hoch was immediately suspicious.
“Seven,” repeated Sister Marie-Paul more firmly.
He was about to ask who the children were and how they came to be living in the convent when there was a commotion in the hall and one of his men came clattering down the stairs into the hall.
Hoch strode out of the parlour to find out what was going on. “Well, Schwarz?”
“Better come upstairs, sir,” said Schwarz, and turned back to the stairs. Hoch pushed past him and took the stairs two at a time. Schwarz followed and so did Sister Marie-Paul.
When they reached the landing they found two other men standing outside one of the cell bedrooms. One had his rifle pointed at Sister Eloise, who was backed against the wall of the corridor, the other was aiming his rifle into the room.
“Well?” barked Hoch. “What have you found?”
“Found a woman, sir. In the bed here… all bandaged up,” replied the man covering Sister Eloise. “Looks like gunshot wounds.”
Hoch elbowed him aside and striding into the cell stared down at the figure on the bed. His lip curled as he took in the wan face of the woman who lay on the bed, and there was a flash of triumph in his eyes.
“Name?” he barked at the terrified woman.
“Simone,” came the whispered reply.
“Simone? And your surname, Mademoiselle?” The sarcastic emphasis on the title made the woman flinch.
“Simone who?” His tone brooked no argument and Simone, having no energy for one, murmured, “Isaacs!”
“As I thought. A Jew.” He turned away as if disgusted by the sight of her. “Hartmann, take her away,” he said dismissively. “I’ll talk to her at headquarters.”
The two men lowered their rifles and one hauled the injured Simone from th
e bed. Her legs folded underneath her as he tried to make her stand up, and without more ado he hoisted her up over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. As he did so, she gave a shriek of pain. Sister Eloise moved forward, her hands held out as if to halt them, but the second man pushed her violently against the wall, out of the way.
“Stay back,” he ordered, raising his rifle again.
Hartmann carried Simone along the corridor to the stairs without slackening his pace. Her nightgown was bunched up above her knees and as they disappeared down the stairs, the pale curve of her buttocks was displayed to them all.
“Take the nun as well,” Hoch ordered the other man. “She was harbouring a criminal.”
“I was tending an injured woman,” Sister Eloise said mildly. “It is my calling.”
“The woman is an enemy of the Reich,” replied Hoch smoothly. “Harbouring her makes you an enemy of the Reich. Take her away, Schmidt.”
Schmidt took Sister Eloise roughly by the arm and made as if to march her along the passage in the wake of his comrade, but the nun shook off his hand. “There is no need for that. I will come with you.” She glanced across at Hoch. “Simone will need my care again when you have finished questioning her.”
Hoch raised his hand and dealt her a stinging blow across her face. Her head jerked back and the marks of his fingers flowered red upon her cheek, but she made no sound as she turned her back on him. With quiet dignity she walked along the landing, pausing only to speak to Sister Marie-Paul, who was standing, stupefied, at the top of the stairs. “Don’t worry, Sister. Everything is in the hands of Our Lord. Tell Reverend Mother what has happened when she gets back.” Then with Schmidt behind her, his rifle still raised in case she ran, she descended the stairs.
Hoch, white-faced with anger, spoke softly to Sister Marie-Paul. “You! Nun! Gather all your nuns together somewhere. I wish to speak to them.”
The Sisters of St. Croix Page 17
