North (49 page)

Oh yes, but I'm beginning to see better now . . . my eyes are getting used to the spotlights . . . I can make out faces in the crowd . . . everything was white before . . . now I recognize this one and that one . . . I look for Inge . . . and the
Landrat
. . . they must be in the front rows . . . I'd think . . . I can't find them . . . the hall has been fixed up very nicely, plenty of benches . . . those
bibelforschers
are good workers . . . not luxurious, but good and solid . . . plus at least thirty rows of chairs, I count them . . . the whole thing looks like a Protestant meeting house . . . room for the whole village . . . and do they stamp! . . . and applaud the overstuffed mamma and her gigolo! and shout for more! . . . it's true that her act would have been good anyplace! . . . this was something like enthusiasm . . . I join in . . . no time to be difficult . . . I egg the others on . . .

"Give her a hand! . . . go on, Lili! . . . and you, Kracht! . . . aren't you happy?"

I'm sold on "Strength Through Joy"! . . . Le Vig is kind of sulking . . . why wouldn't he recite something? . . . sulking makes a bad impression . . . they must be looking at us! . . .

"Yes! yes! right you are!"

He catches on . . . he joins in . . . we applaud! and Kracht with us, all out! . . . what bugged me was trying to find the
Landrat
. . . he must be here, in the shadow . . . or in one of the seats of honor . . . I can only see Inge and her little girl . . . I look . . . I look some more . . . ah yes! . . . the von Leidens between two women I don't know . . . and a little closer to us Countess Thor von Thorfels all alone . . . little Gillie on a different bench . . . they seem to be keeping away from each other on purpose . . . the whole family's there . . . dispersed . . . but none of them anywheres near, us . . . definitely! they've arranged not to know us! . . . we're no good, we're on the Index! . . . same ethical and sanitary code up there in Boche-land as in France . . . in Moorsburg as in Meudon . . .

"Don't associate with those people! those stinking pustulous reprobates!"

Seen from a different angle, it's not bad . . . you don't need to gab and waste your time being amiable, the pariah status has its good side . . . when I see de Gaulle visiting Adenau . . . or Adolf and Philippe at Montoire ° . . . or Charles V calling on Elizabeth . . . all that chin-chinning and lipstick and face powder for nothing! . . . the "untouchable" doesn't need to paint his face, all anybody wants of him is a little more shit . . . from top to toe!

But let's get back! I take you to this party and I get sidetracked on philosophy . . . you'll say he's putting the reader on . . . not at all! . . . I was showing you the hall . . . la Kretzer and her husband . . . and the
Dienstelle
personnel . . . I'm beginning to get my bearings, to spot this one and that one . . . the Kretzers are in a different row . . . a little behind us . . . they seem to be enjoying themselves . . . first time I've seen them laugh . . . things are happening on the stage . . . the old Gypsy women are coming up from the back . . . they cross through the couples and step up to the footlights . . . they're going to sing . . . the chief with the earrings announces . . .

"'The Danube Chorus' with guitar and castanets!"

Bravo! . . . the big morale-building show has been going on for a good hour, and it's not over . . . I ask Kracht . . . 

"Intermission?"

"No, not yet!"

"Then we'd better go!"

"As you wish!"

I'm thinking of the two old men . . . Le Vig's not happy about our getting up . . . he grumbles something . . . Lili's not happy either, she's been waiting for the castanets . . . we leave very discreetly, edging our way from row to row . . . I don't think they've noticed, the whole house is picking up the "Danube Chorus," clapping their hands and stamping . . . "Strength Through Joy!" . . . here we are outside, it's cold . . . nice if Kracht gave us some light, he's got two "torches" . . . just for a second! . . . actually we're all right . . . the sky does it . . . still that glow . . . pink and yellow . . . in the clouds . . . if you screw up your eyes you can see the road . . . the walls . . . the thatched roofs . . . not far to the manor . . . but all of a sudden: halt! . . . right after the grocery store . . . somebody in front of us! . . . a face! . . . Kracht points his flashlight . . . the face talks . . . to him, in a whisper . . . I don't know this somebody . . . I don't understand what they're spying . . . it's in German . . . dialect . . . a pale face, worse than pale, like smeared with plaster . . . with thick lips and long eyelashes . . . there are no searchlights outside . . . was it me, because my eyes had been blinded by the acetylene? I don't think so . . . a pierrot? . . . a pack of pierrots? Kracht seems startled too . . . he's talking with this whiteface . . . another face comes out of the darkness! . . . and another! . . . a whole string! . . . and they all whisper to him in dialect . . . I've never seen such white powdery faces . . . refugees? . . . from where?

"What are they saying?"

I can't answer, Le Vig's asking me, I haven t understood a thing . . . it must be serious . . .

Just then Kracht fires his pistol . . . in the air . . . two shots! . . . where can these powdered men have come from? . . . I never found out . . . they beat it without saying good-bye . . . never ran into them again . . . now Kracht's walking ahead of us with his two flashlights . . . he's forgotten about the planes . . . big hurry about something . . . people are coming from all directions, out of breath . . . some from the village, I know them by sight . . . the two shots in the air have brought them running . . . "Kracht! Kracht!" . . . they're calling him out of the night . . . they must have come from the show too . . . the show must have stopped sharp . . . I see members of the audience milling around and gibbering . . . "what's happened?" . . . Kracht's revolver shots . . . but we didn't know anything either! . . . we'd soon see! . . . not a damn thing! . . . the copse . . . the park . . . and there's the manor! . . . of course the people wanted to follow us! to go in with us . . . Kracht chases them away . . . doesn't take him long! . . . a shot in the air!
ping!
. . . they all run away . . . Kracht's not pussyfooting any more! . . . his heater and the flashlights! . . . we go in to see the sick men . . . him and Le Vig and Lucette and me . . . high time! . . . first the
Revizor
. . . he's better . . .
guten abend!
good evening! . . . the pulse is feeble, but otherwise . . . I auscultate him . . . his breathing's all right . . . the fever's down . . . haven't they been cold?. . . no! . . . his leg? it must be fractured . . . I tell him to lie still, well see about it later . . . the other one, the Uhlan count, doesn't say a thing . . . I take the flashlight . . . I shine it in his face . . . he's had it . . . Kracht asks me . . .
"glauben sie?
think so?" . . . "oh
ja! ja!"
. . . he's been dead for more than an hour . . . I know, I'm used to inquests . . . the
Revizor
beside him is surprised, he hasn't heard a thing! . . . not a moan! . . . Count von Leiden died quick . . . we'd been out about two hours . . . he was in bad shape, but I'd never have expected . . . so quick . . . heart failure? . . . well, anyway, we've got to announce it, then they'll leave us in peace! . . .
"Rittmeister
von Leiden is dead" . . . died in battle, I suggest . . . no! no! Kracht is against it! . . . first we've got to notify Moorsburg! . . . notify? how? . . . he'll go on a bicycle! . . . right away? . . . yes! . . . in the dark? . . . that road? . . . I object . . .

"Kracht, we'll go with you! we can't stay here alone" . . . The whole lot of them gathered together there, housewives,
moujiks
, prisoners . . . all they were waiting for was a chance to catch us without our SS guard . . . they'd settle our hash! and empty the cupboard! . . .

"Ja! ja! ja! sicher!"

He agreed . . . Germans are full of faults, but they've got one good point, when you tell them something really reasonable, they believe you . . . the French, never! . . . Kracht agreed that if he left he'd find us in ribbons . . . country sausage! . . . the whole village would mob us! . . . we're thinking it over . . . somebody knocks . . .
"herein!
come in!" . . . nobody! . . . yes, a face! . . . not powdery-plastery, an ordinary face, but not from the village . . . I know faces . . .

"What is it?"

Kracht shines his two flashlights . . . the stranger talks . . . dialect again . . . I understand a word or two . . . oh oh, complications! . . . seems there's a man outside . . . where . . . at the farm? . . . in the yard? . . . and another! . . . right near here! . . . looks like they've taken advantage of our absence! . . . Kracht's got to go! . . . oh no, you don't! . . . not without us! . . . not much confidence in Léonard; that hayseed was certainly capable of anything . . . but one thing Leonard knew . . . that if they rubbed us out the pillage would be total! . . . the cupboard bare! . . . nothing left . . . either, for the swineherd or himself . . . there'd been sense in his "don't let him out of your sight"! . . . when people take an interest in your welfare they're thinking of themselves, they've got some idea . . . "don't let him out of your sight!" . . . we certainly weren't going to! let's go see what's happened! what's this all about? . . . here we are outside with Kracht . . . okay! . . . they escort us . . . they lead us . . . they know where it is . . . on the plain side, in the pond, under Le Vig's window, he didn't sleep there any more, I've told you . . . this room, clay floor, bars on the window . . . more like a cell . . . there's the pond, very little water, but plenty of weeds! . . . big tufts . . . clogged with grass and muck . . . with the flashlight we can see the bottom, trickles of water and the reflections from the clouds . . . the fires in the distance . . . pink and yellow lights . . . it would have been pretty . . . would have been, I say . . . but we've come to see something else . . . and we see it . . . on the plain side, deep in the weeds . . . boots! . . . the people point at them . . . I ask Kracht . . .
"ja! ja!
. . . right!" we understand each other . . . somebody down at the bottom! . . . I've got a hunch who it is . . . got to get him out of the water . . . this most be what the "powdered men" had been talking about . . . I hadn't understood them . . . coming out of the
Tanzhalle
. . . Kracht calls for four
bibelforschers!
. . . they step forward, they understand, they see the boots . . . they wade . . . they sink into the muck . . . they grab the boots and pull, they pull the body out of the weeds . . . here it comes! it's him, under the weeds, lying on his back . . . oh, it's no surprise to me, I'd suspected! . . .
Landrat
Simmer . . . he's dead . . . drowned, but not just drowned! . . . they'd strangled him too! . . . a cord around his neck . . . they undo the knot . . . a thick silk cord . . . where'd they find this silk? . . . mystery, I've never seen any silk in Zornhof and certainly no silk cord . . . or in Berlin! . . . but it's silk all right . . . first they cracked him on the head . . . that deep gash, still bleeding . . . a pickax, I'd say . . . over his right temple . . . then they garroted and strangled him . . . but first the pickax  . . . there'll be an investigation . . . then they put him in this pooh under the weeds . . . where was he coming from? . . . where had he been? . . . he was supposed to preside over the entertainment . . . had he eaten dinner at the farm? probably . . . not sure but almost . . . anyway we'd been smart not to stay at the manor . . . or in the yard . . . I give them instructions . . . to press his belly, his stomach, hard . . . they turn him over to make him throw up! nothing! . . . he's very cold . . . and wet, naturally . . . and stiff, like he'd been dead for hours . . . I don't get it . . . water dripping from his clothes and his boots . . . the face is calm, not convulsed . . . yellowish . . . no struggle . . . they're all whispering like mad . . . they go on and on . . . they know everything! . . . the liars, they don't know a thing! . . . we hadn't expected anything like this . . . no, I can't say we had . . . even the
Landrat
in the pool couldn't have suspected . . . if he'd had the faintest glimmer he wouldn't have gone out! . . . where does that leave us? . . . Le Vig's squinting hard . . .

Just then:
vzzz!
a small plane dives . . . from way high up . . . and passes over us before you could swat a fly! . . . another pass! . . . and another! . . . looping the loop! . . . I pull myself together . . . I see it. . . it's a Marauder, they escort the Fortresses . . . it's happened twice before . . . a month ago . . . they came down for a look-see . . . this time it's Kracht's "torches" . . . haven't they got anything better to do? . . . why would the Fortresses be interested in us? . . . here they are again! . . . insistent buggers! . . . at every dive they drop twenty . . . thirty phosphorus flares! . . . they float and glide . . . from cloud to cloud . . . those boys want to see everything . . . the flares crackle and blaze . . . no secrets from them . . . plainer than day . . . the trees, the isbas, the Gypsy wagon, the pond, everything! . . . and the housewives, and the
Landrat
lying on his back in the grass . . . actually on a bed of wet leaves . . . the
bibels
have pulled him out of the weeds and put him down on the bank with his hands together . . . maybe these planes with their daylight lamps will decide to unload . . . on top of us. . . end it all! . . . one good
boo-oom!
the hamlet, the church and us! . . . wiped out! . . . and the
Landrat!
. . . the whole shebang!
vzzz! boom!

"Ferdie! Do you think this is it?"

Le Vig isn't feeling blissful any more, he's through asking me if I'm happy . . . in fact he's convinced that this is the end . . . he's snapped out of his dream . . . I wouldn't go so far, but the fact is we've done everything we could to make those RAF acrobats blast us . . . we've asked for it! . . . especially Kracht with his "torches" . . . he wouldn't douse them . . . the whole audience from.the show was there and the Gypsies, and they knew everything! . . . holding forth! . . . they didn't know a thing they hadn't been there, they'd been down below with us, they were making it up . . . with details! and what details! . . . how the
Landrat
had been killed, how they'd grabbed him and strangled him! . . . people invent any old thing just to make themselves interesting . . . you'll say . . . what about you, you louse? . . . I'm telling the exact truth, nothing thrown in! . . . put that in your pipe! . . . if anything, I minimize . . . the gentle chronicler! . . . they hadn't been at the farm, or in the yard . . . so I ask you . . . what could they have seen? they just know . . . to prove it, they're leading us someplace . . . where? . . . the
Landrat
isn't enough for them, there's somebody else been drowned! . . . so they say! . . . who? . . . I see Countèss Thor von Thorfels . . . she'd been avoiding us for a week . . . now she's here, I take the opportunity to question her . . . where had the
Landrat
been? . . . at the farm? . . . oh yes, she'd had dinner with him . . . which means that he'd just come out when they conked him and drowned him . . . where was he going? . . . to the show of course, since he was supposed to preside . . . just crossing the yard when they clouted and strangled him . . . the countess had no hesitation, she accused! but who? . . . the murderers had dragged him to the pond and thrown him in . . . I knew that as well as she did, he was lying on a bed of weeds . . . she could go down and see him! . . . the RAF was being very good to us, the whole place was lit up, a fête! . . . hundreds of flares! . . . I've told you . . . brighter, than broad daylight! . . . what did they want us to look at now? they were all pestering us to hurry while the illumination lasted . . . the whole hamlet's there, and the Kretzers, Mr. and Mrs., and the
bibels
and the prisoners . . . big crowd, but one thing I notice . . . I don't see Léonard . . . or his sidekick . . . Nicholas the giant is right in the middle of the yard, down on his knees, throwing up . . . too much to eat? . . . or drink? . . . it seems he'd sopped up all the wine in the kitchen . . . plenty! he knew where to find it . . . maybe . . . but I'd never seen him drunk . . . a little binge because everybody'd gone out? . . . or maybe he was only pretending . . . and his cripple? . . . where'd he put him? . . . he carried him everywhere . . . never left him . . . everybody asks him . . .