GAUL
TARASCO
JULY AD 344
The wooden carts stood ready to leave. Possessions piled high, cooking utensils, flagons of posca and barley beer, blankets for the nights, which even at this time of year could be cool.
‘We’ve discussed this so many times, Lupa,’ Arinius said wearily. ‘You said you would go. You promised.’
‘I said I would go when the time came. Not a moment before.’
Arinius put his hand on her shoulder. ‘The time has come,’ he said quietly. ‘The army is on the far side of the river. In three days, four at most, they will be here.’
Lupa turned and saw her sisters beckoning. She ignored them. Lifting the baby higher on her hip, a look of extreme stubbornness on her face, she turned back to face him. Despite himself, Arinius smiled. Already their son’s expression was a reflection of hers.
‘You only have to say the word,’ she said. ‘I told you I would obey you.’
He put his hand on her arm. ‘I will not command you, you know that.’
For a moment, her face softened, then she renewed her objections.
‘We have seen invaders off before.’
‘These are opponents of a different kind, Lupa. They come to kill, not to conquer.’
For a moment, a lightning flash of fear appeared in her eyes, but it was quickly doused.
‘God will protect us,’ she said. ‘Deus suos agnoscet,’ she recited, a touch of pride in her voice that she had remembered the Latin he’d taught her. ‘God will know his own, that’s what you told me.’ She glanced back at the friends, neighbours, waiting to leave. ‘It is what you told us all. They have faith in you, Arinius. So do I.’
‘And so He will,’ Arinius said. ‘But He would not want you to take unnecessary risks.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Please, I am looking to you to set an example. As my wife, you must take care of them. Lead them to safety.’
For a moment, still he thought she would refuse. But then, in one of the mercurial changes of temperament he so much loved, quicksilver like a fish in the river, she took him by surprise by standing on her tiptoes, leaning forward and kissing him on the lips.
‘Very well,’ she said.
‘Lupa?’ he said suspiciously, sensing some sleight of hand, some trick.
‘I will lead them to safety.’
Still he stared, but she was already walking away to join the others. She handed Marcellus to her grandmother, in one of the carts, then stood beside her two older sisters.
‘Come to fetch us soon,’ she called, her head held high. ‘I do not wish to spend the winter in the mountains without you.’
Grief suddenly overwhelmed him. Having been so intent on persuading her to go, he had forgotten how he would feel if she did what he asked. It was thanks to Lupa that he had learnt to love and to live in the world. She gave his life meaning, she and Marcellus. Arinius rushed forward and put his arms around her, held her tight, breathing the deep musk scent of her hair and her skin.
‘Arinius,’ she chided him softly.
He let her go, realising he was making it worse for them both. He kissed his little son on the top of his head, gave Lupa a last, private smile, then stepped away. He raised his right hand to bless their journey.
‘Dominus vobiscum,’ he said. Some of the young women made the sign of the cross, under the open gaze of their mothers and grandmothers and aunts. Then, under his breath, he told Lupa one last time that he loved her.
She smiled. ‘Te amo.’
The cart moved off, joining the chain of wooden wheels and rattling nails winding up the path through the box and the silver birch trees, the mules and the goats pulling the smaller traps.
Only once did Lupa turn round to look at him. Arinius watched as the cart rumbled into the shadow of the hill, then let his hand drop back to his side.
When they were out of sight, he put his hands together and prayed, with an open heart and with open eyes, for God to spare them all.
To spare her.
Arinius stood there a while longer, hoping for a sign that his orisons had been heard, but there was nothing. The sweet empty air settled around him. Then he heard his father-in-law calling his name.
With a final glance at the empty track, the forest now silent once more, he drew his sword and quickly walked down to join the men in the valley.
CARCASSONNE
JULY 1944
‘We have to try,’ Sandrine said again.
She and Raoul were in the kitchen in the rue du Palais. It was late on Tuesday afternoon and they were at loggerheads. Had been ever since Sandrine had laid out her plan for getting to Authié. Neither of them wanted to fight, but they were unable to stop the row developing. Marianne and Suzanne had crept away and left them to it.
‘You’ll never get anywhere near him,’ Raoul said for the third time.
‘We – they – got Kromer,’ Sandrine said. ‘And Fournier with him.’
‘That was outside his house, in a public street,’ Raoul threw back. ‘The Cité is a garrison. It’s crawling with soldiers. Every one of the postern gates is either boarded up or manned twenty-four hours a day. The Porte de l’Aude has been bricked up and there are blockhouses on the Pont Vieux and all the approach roads. Even if you get in, you’ll never get out in one piece.’
Sandrine put her hand on his arm. ‘Raoul, I know all of this.’
He shrugged her off. ‘You won’t get anywhere near, surely you can see that. It’s too much of a risk. You could go with the others tonight. Go to Coustaussa with Marianne and Suzanne. Leave now before Authié gets back.’
Sandrine forced him to meet her eye. ‘You’re saying you think I should run away?’
‘It’s not running away, it’s common sense!’ he said, unable to stop his voice rising in frustration.
‘Don’t shout at me,’ she shouted.
‘Sandrine, please.’ He sighed. ‘Just for once listen to someone else’s advice. Listen to me. Please.’
She saw the desperation in his eyes, but knew she couldn’t let it affect her.
‘I have thought it all through, Raoul. If you’d listen to me, you’d see that I – we – can pull this off. We have people inside the Hôtel de la Cité and—’
‘That won’t do any good! ’ he said, throwing his hands in the air.
‘Germans as well as local supporters,’ she continued.
‘I know that.’ Suddenly the fight went out of him. ‘Why does it have to be you?’ he said quietly.
‘Because it does,’ Sandrine said.
Raoul pulled a hand-rolled cigarette from his breast pocket and lit it. The match grated loud, rough, in the quiet room.
‘I’m serious,’ he said. ‘Let me go in your place.’
Sandrine stared at him. ‘Don’t you think I’m capable of it?’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘Then what is the point, tell me?’ she demanded.
Raoul sighed, pushed his fingers through his hair, paced up and down, the floorboards creaking under his anxious feet.
‘There are some things you shouldn’t be doing,’ he said in the end. ‘That’s all.’
‘Because I’m a woman?’
‘No, that’s not what I mean. I don’t think like that, you know I don’t.’
Sandrine took a deep breath. She knew they were arguing because they were frightened about what might happen, both of them.
‘Look,’ she said quietly. ‘I know you’re trying to protect me, but there’s no need. There’s much less chance of success if you go. You are more likely to be stopped than I am.’ She took his hands in hers. ‘We have to try, you know we do. The moment Authié gets to Carcassonne, whatever the real reason for him coming back, we’ve lost the advantage. We have to strike. If it wasn’t me, you’d agree to it like a shot.’
Raoul was about to argue, then stopped.
‘You see,’ she said, ‘you know I’m right.’
He didn’t answer, so she carried on. ‘Of course there will be extra security around the Cité, but I’ve taken that into account. Marianne knows someone who works in the kitchens of the Hôtel de la Cité. Suzanne’s copying her pass to make one for me.’
Despite himself, Raoul was drawn in. ‘Will it be good enough?’
‘Suzanne’s good. We’ll see. I think so.’
Sandrine looked at him for a moment, then went to the row of glass jars above the stove. Once, Marieta had filled them with rice and salt and flour. She reached up and took out the stock from one, the magazine from another, and started to assemble the gun. Usually she kept it loaded, but the mechanism tended to jam. After Monday’s expedition to Berriac, she’d taken it apart to clean it.
‘Surely you’re not going to attempt to shoot him?’ Raoul said. ‘There’s no way you’ll get close enough. At least, not close enough to have a clear shot and get away without being caught.’
‘I know,’ Sandrine said, locking the magazine into place.
‘What then? A bomb?’
She nodded. ‘Not in the hotel itself, of course. Too many people.’
‘Where?’
Sandrine was relieved Raoul was finally treating it like any other operation. He seemed to have put his objections to one side, for the time being at least.
‘Schiffner and Authié are scheduled to take a tour of the lices before they go into dinner. Only Gestapo and Milice will accompany them, no civilians. Our people inside the hotel will make sure everyone stays well out of range during the time that matters.’
‘Suzanne’s making the device, I suppose?’
‘Yes.’ Sandrine nodded. ‘Her record’s better than most. You know they call her “le fabricant ”. They assume she’s a man, of course.’
‘It’s true,’ Raoul said wryly. For an instant, a flash of humour came into his black eyes. ‘Not a single résistant has been injured on her watch, that’s what they say.’
‘And they’re right.’
‘It’s some record,’ Raoul said. Many of the smaller injuries suffered by partisans were the result of improvised devices going off too early, blowing up in people’s hands before they’d been properly primed.
Sandrine pushed her black curls back behind her ears and looked him in the eye. ‘So? What’s it to be?’
Raoul met her gaze and held it for a few long seconds. ‘What do I think?’ he said. ‘I think it could work, but . . .’
‘Good,’ she interrupted.
‘But it’s a long shot. And . . .’ He paused, framing the words carefully. ‘And I want to help. You have to have back-up, Sandrine.’
‘No, I don’t want you . . .’
She stopped. She resented him trying to protect her, yet here she was considering doing the same thing to him. Usually she had Suzanne and Marianne as back-up. If they went to Coustaussa tonight, as planned, they wouldn’t be available and she didn’t want them to delay their departure.
‘What is it?’ he asked, puzzled by her expression.
Sandrine smiled. ‘I accept your offer,’ she said. ‘It will make everything better if you’re with me.’
Raoul stared at her, then let out a long sigh of relief. ‘Well, that’s something.’ He smiled, then his expression changed. ‘Right. When do you plan to do this?’
‘Suzanne’s out in the Bastide getting hold of what she needs to construct the device. All being well, I’ll put the bomb in place tomorrow night, before Authié arrives and security is stepped up.’
‘How’s it going to be detonated?’
‘I’ll go back and do it,’ she said. ‘I can’t see any other option. They will be searching all bags on Friday, of course, even more than usual, but since I won’t have anything incriminating with me, that should be fine. Then all I’ve got to do is get to the device in time.’
‘But if . . .’ He stopped.
Sandrine guessed he’d been about to object again, but this time he thought better of it. Instead he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her on the forehead.
‘You are too brave for your own good, ma belle.’
‘Brave?’ she said, looking down at the gun in her hands. She didn’t feel brave, only scared.
Sandrine suddenly remembered a conversation she’d had with Marianne in this very kitchen, the morning after the demonstration. Two years ago, she hadn’t understood what Marianne was trying to tell her about the chasm between what she did and how she felt about it. To Sandrine, then, everything had sounded exciting and courageous.
Now she understood. She shook her head.
‘No,’ she said, echoing her sister’s words. ‘I’m not brave. I hate it, I hate it all. But there’s no choice.’