Authors: Jerrard Tickell
“In
nomine
Patris
et
Filii
et
Spiritus
Sancti
."
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," said Xavier swiftly. He gabbled over the dimly remembered words of the Confiter. When he came to the end, he paused making his final selection. There was no time to bring up the affairs of Francoise . . . or Marguerite ...or even Fleur.
"Since my last confession I have--"
"When
was
your last confession, Xavier?"
"Oh, some time ago, Father. Let us talk of that later. In the meantime ..."
In under three minutes he was finished. Father Jean said in some surprise,
"Is that all
?"
"That's all." He coughed. "Well, practically all. And time presses." He was given reluctant absolution, subject to a number of Hail Marys. No penance was ever gabbled at greater speed. Priest and penitent walked back to the house. Cake and cognac were produced by Marie-Louise. The
curé
said slowly, "You said that you had a second matter to discuss. If it could be postponed until after ... after tomorrow--"
"Impossible, Father. You are a priest but you are also a Frenchman. In your heart, you are one with us of the Maquis - and in th
e hills we have need of a, er ...private chaplain. Were you to consent to do what I ask, the vengeance of the Boche would be heavy and you would be well advised to join us. Pierre has been arrested and sentenced to death. He dies at dawn tomorrow, unless..."
"Unless what?"
"It is you and you alone who can save him, his wife and unborn child. Now I talk to a priest and a Frenchman. I have a plan . . ."
Half an hour later, Xavier left the priest's house. He had explained his plan and the priest, when he had understood its purpose and its audacity, had seen no reason for withholding his complicity.
En
effet
, he was only asked to repeat once against a religious ceremony which he had already performed some twelve months ago. Such an act could only be acceptable to God. But, as Xavier had said, the vengeance of the Boche would be heavy. He began to get together his meagre belongings. It was sad indeed to have to leave the house where he had lived for so many years and life in the hills among the Maquis would be hard and dangerous. But it was amongst these men that his duty lay.
The small boy was waiting at the corner of the street. He fell into step beside Xavier. "Well?"
"I have seen Madame and I have given her your message. The Germans permitted me to see her alone. They are fools. She told me to tell you that she will do anything for Monsieur Pierre, for her unborn baby and for France."
"You have done well, my little one. Now I go to see the German Commandant. Tonight, when the firing starts, you should go to the cellar and stay there until the battle is over. Tomorrow, it may be that the Germans will ask you questions. You know nothing. It is understood? You are not suspected and no harm will come to you."
"Yes. It is understood.
Bonne
chance
,
Monsieur
."
"And to you. Now go. It is better that we are not seen together."
Xavier walked on. He made his way to the gates of the commandeered chateau that was now the Headquarters of the German Garrison. Two sentries barred his entry. To them he explained with great humility that he wished to have an interview with
Monsieur
le
Commandant
. It was, he said, twisting his beret in his hands, a matter of the gravest importance and urgency. No - he could not tell what he wished to see the Commandant about. It was a very delicate affair and could only be revealed to the Commandant personally, but with the hint of grin at the corner of his mouth, he submitted to being searched. He bore no weapon. One of the sentries accompanied him up to the chateau. He was shown into a small room and told to wait. The minutes ticked away, each one of unendurable slowness. At long last, a non-commissioned officer told Xavier gruffly to follow and he was shown into the office of Major Otto von Klingen, Commandant of the Garrison of Fleuris.
Major von Klingen sat a
t a large, paper-littered table; behind him, stood Captain Greisenau of the Gestapo. He was wearing a civilian suit of French cut. The major looked strained and tired. He looked like who he was, an honour able soldier, whose distasteful duty it was to kill an enemy, not in battle but in cold blood. He said curtly: "I try to make myself available at all times to those who wish to see me. But your visit is inopportune. Please state your business shortly."
Xavier passed his hand over his face. He said humbly,
"Have I
Monsieur
le
Commandant's
permission to be seated?"
Captain Greisenau's voice spoke sharply from behind the table.
"Certainly not. You will remain standing in the presence of the Commandant."
Major von Klingen glanced at Captain Greisenau. In that glance Xavier saw surprise and resentment. He felt rather than saw the major's back stiffen. When he spoke his voice was cold.
"You may be seated if you wish. But I am a busy man and my time is short."
"Thank you,
Monsieur
le
Commandant
." He sat down.
He longed passionately for a cigarette, but to light one now would be trying the Commandant too high. He said, slowly, wearily:
"My business concerns the prisoner, Pierre, and ... and another."
"Another?"
Xavier drew a deep breath.
"Yes. Another. My daughter Nicole." "You are the father of
Madame?" "Yes."
The lie came easily. During the time he had waited in the small room, he had rehearsed the role of outraged parent over and over again until he had almost come to believe that Nicole was his daughter. Now the curtain had gone up in very truth. He threw himself into his part with zest. His face flushed and he spoke with heat.
"You ask me if I am the father of Nicole. The answer is 'Yes.' But if you ask me if I am the father-in-law of Pierre, the answer is 'No.' "
Major von Klingen shook his head.
"I do not understand. Pray explain yourself.''
"It is all too simple. Pierre, whom you hold in prison under sentence of death, is the unspeakable seducer of my daughter. The pair have lived together but they are not married. That is my daughter's shame. But her greater shame is that she is with child." He leaned forward, his face working. "Consider
my
position,
Monsieur
le
Commandant
, when that child is born. Am I, who spring from the loins of honourable ancestors, to be pointed out as the grandfather of a bastard?"
There was a snigger from behind the Major's table. Captain Greisenau said with a
chuckle:"You may remember,
Herr
Major
, the view I expressed to you an hour ago concerning Frenchwomen. They are only good for two things. The first of these is cooking. The other they practise freely - even here in the village of Fleuris, it seems. Let us be done with this sentimental rigmarole. It is no affair of ours if the convicted man is the husband or lover of the convicted woman, nor is it our affair if our friend here is the grandfather of seven bastards. We have more serious matters to attend to,
Herr
Major
, and I suggest--" '
"Be silent, Captain. I command you to be silent."
Major von Klingen looked at Xavier, his face a maze of wrinkles. He saw before him a lean, sun-burned man who twisted his beret humbly in his fingers. The father of Nicole! Lord God, but the daughter was better looking than her father. At this moment, with her man about to die, he was aware of a gush of sympathy for her and for her unborn child. When he spoke again, the harshness had gone from his voice.
"You will realise that the unhappy position in which your daughter finds herself is none of my making." He cleared his throat. "Nor, I regret, is it in my power to mitigate the sentence of the court which has been passed on the man."
"That I do not ask,
Monsieur
le
Commandant
."
"Then what do you ask?" said Captain Greisenau sharply. Xavier looked at him with loathing. Before the night was out, please God, he would have an opportunity to deal with him in a proper manner. For the German Commandant, he had no personal enmity. Because he was a German, he was the foe of France. But, in this instance, and in this instance alone, Xavier s
ensed a possible ally. Later, he would see to it that no harm came to this German.
"I address myself to you,
Monsieur
le
Commandant
, not to this other gentleman. Pierre has been arrested by you and has been condemned to die. For months past, he has promised to make my daughter his wife. He has not done so. There are now only a few hours before he faces the firing squad. I would like to put those hours to good use. I ask that you permit Pierre to marry my daughter before sentence of death be carried out."
Captain Greisenau laughed. It was not a pretty sound.
"Before this woman is taken to Ravensbriick, you ask that she should spend her honeymoon in a cemetery! You ask that her nuptial bed be her husband's grave."
"Of you I ask nothing," said Xavier shortly. He turned to von Klingen. "Nothing but good can come of your granting my wish. It is in your power to solve a problem which profoundly affects the honour of my family. I think of the future, not of the past, the innocent and not of the guilty. I think not of Pierre
, nor even of Nicole. I think of the unborn and…" - he shrugged - "…I confess to you that I also think of myself in the role of the wronged grandfather."
"But surely," said von Klingen dryly, "it is your daughte
r who has been wronged, not you!"
"It is I.
Monsieur
le
Commandant
can know little of the family life of France if he believes otherwise." He paused. He gazed directly at Major von Klingen. He said softly: "It is possible that
Monsieur
le
Commandant
is himself married. It is possible that he has a daughter. Suppose that
Monsieur's
own daughter were to find herself-"
"Silence. You are being insolent."
"It is not my wish to be insolent. I have spoken to Father Jean who is prepared to perform the ceremony. Pierre could be taken to the church under guard, as many as
Monsieur
le Commandant
pleases and I ... I would contribute a bottle of wine to drink the health of my grandchild, born in and not out of wedlock. I beg of you."
"You will wait outside."
"As Monsieur commands."
Xavier was back in the small room. He wiped the sweat from his brow. My faith, that had been a bad half-hour. As long as Pierre remained in the prison and Nicole in her bed, their doom was sure. Once get them out and into the open air and they were as good as on their way to England. The R.A.F., an aircraft from the Moon Squadron would surely come. The R.A.F. had never failed him yet. He grinned. Already, his Maquis would be on the move, creeping silently down from the hills. And from the next room, from Major von Klingen's office he could hear the confused sound of angry voices. The gulf which yawned between the Army an
d the Gestapo was widening…
"You will of course refuse this impudent request," said Captain Greisenau curtly.
Major von Klingen lit a cigarette. He smoked it slowly, gazing into the far corner of the room. It was true what the Frenchman, this imminent grandfather, had said. Suppose he, Major von Klingen, had a daughter ... Well, he had. Trude must be twenty now. He had seen her on his last leave and had been astounded at how suddenly she had become a woman, full-breasted, nubile, infinitely vulnerable. He translated the words ‘Mademoiselle Nicole’ (for ‘Mademoiselle’ she had surprisingly become) into the words ‘Fraulein Trude’, seeing the problem as relating to one he loved. Suppose Trude, gay, blonde, impetuous Trude, were to give herself to a man and become with child and that man were to be condemned to death? What would Major von Klingen do then? There was an unspoken bond between grandfathers which transcended the military aspect of a bizarre situation. He would plead with the executioner of his dear daughter’s seducer, just as this Frenchman had done. In the maelstrom of war and victory and defeat, there was surely a time for remembering the ancient humanities and this was that hour. Major von Klingen had few illusions left about the eventual outcome of the war. He judged as he himself would want to be judged. He crushed out his cigarette.
"I have decided, Captain," he said, "to grant this request."
Captain Greisenau stepped from behind the table. He said angrily:
"Then I suggest that you are unfit to command this garrison. The man should be shot out of hand and the woman--"
Major von Klingen sprang to his feet. He banged on the table with his fist.