The Marquis of Bolibar (19 page)

"Water!" came a shrill cry from the inner room where Günther lay. The surgeon, who had been leaning in the doorway pipe in hand, listening to the colonel's account of our predicament, took a pitcher of water and hurried to the wounded man's bedside.

"No powder left?" Lieutenant von Dubitsch repeated in a halting voice. Eglofstein nodded gravely. We stood there, helpless and utterly dismayed, for none of us had suspected that the position was so desperate.

"It is, therefore, of paramount importance," the colonel resumed, "that General d'Hilliers should be apprised of the garrison's plight. Here is my letter to him. I have summoned you here because one of you must undertake to carry it through the guerrillas' lines."

A brooding silence descended on the room. Salignac alone came to attention, stepped forward, and halted as though awaiting orders.

"You ask the impossible," Castel-Borckenstein said softly.

"I do not," the colonel exclaimed. "All that's needed is a man with the requisite courage and cunning — a man who speaks Spanish and will disguise himself as a peasant or muleteer."

Salignac faced about and returned to his corner without a word.

"A man who'll be hanged if he falls into the guerrillas' hands," said First-Lieutenant von Froben of the Hessians. He laughed mirthlessly and drew a hand over his perspiring brow.

"That's true," Lieutenant von Dubitsch chimed in, breathless with agitation. "While inspecting our outposts this morning I was hailed by a voice from the enemy lines. Did I know that last year's harvest of hemp was abundant, it asked, and that rope enough to hang us all would cost but little?"

"Quite so," the colonel said calmly. "The insurgents hang their prisoners - that's stale news — but an attempt must be made nonetheless. Whichever of you volunteers for this dangerous mission may rest assured that—"

We all flinched, startled by a strident peal of laughter, and turned to see that Günther's fever had driven him from his bed. He was standing on the threshold, cackling, with one hand gripping the door-post and the other the hem of his red woollen blanket. He did not see us. His darting eyes seemed intent on something far away, and his delirious condition led him to fancy that he was at home with his father and mother, having just arrived with the mail coach from Spain. He dropped the blanket and waved a hand in the air.

"Here I am!" he cried, still laughing. "Are you all asleep in there? Open up, I'm home again. Quickly, to work! Slaughter me a pig, kill me a goose, send for wine and music!
Allegro, allegro
!"

The surgeon caught him by the arm and tried to coax him back to bed, but Günther recognized the man despite his fever and thrust him away.

"Leave me be, surgeon. All you can do is wield a razor and open a vein, and neither to much effect."

The surgeon dropped his pipe, he was so taken aback. He glanced at the colonel in some confusion and sprang to his own and Günther's defence.

"That's the fever talking," he said, "— anyone can tell."

"I'm not so sure," said the colonel, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "Get him out of here."

"I'm a sick man, truly I am," Günther sighed, gazing at some distant prospect above our heads. "It's bad for the liver to wash a hot meal down with cold beer, the verger's wife told me so."

"He'll not live to see his mother's cat again," Dubitsch murmured to Castel-Borckenstein.

Meantime, the surgeon had contrived to shepherd his delirious patient back to bed. He was a thoroughly skilful practitioner, albeit none of us gave him the credit he deserved, and had some years earlier written a short treatise on the essential nature of melancholy.

The colonel settled himself again, glanced at his watch, and readdressed himself to his officers.

"Time presses. Any further delay could spell disaster. To repeat: whichever of you volunteers for this mission may rest assured that I shall bring him to the Emperor's notice. He may also count on immediate promotion."

The silence was so complete that I could hear Günther breathing in the room next door. Brockendorf looked irresolute, Donop shook his head, Castel-Borckenstein sheepishly pointed to his injured leg, and Dubitsch tried to interpose Brockendorf's broad back between himself and the colonel's gaze.

There was a sudden movement at the back of the room. Someone pushed past Dubitsch and Brockendorf, thrust Eglofstein aside, and strode up to the colonel. It was Salignac.

"Let me go, Colonel," he said quickly, glancing around for fear another might forestall him. His sallow face glowed with eagerness for the fray and the Légion d'Honneur on his chest caught the candlelight. Watching him as he stood there a trifle crouched with his hands grasping invisible reins, I seemed to see him already in the saddle and galloping hell-for-leather through the rebel lines.

The colonel gave him a long look, then shook his hand.

"You're a brave man, Salignac. I thank you and shall report your conduct to the Emperor. Return to your billet at once and put on whatever disguise you think best. Lieutenant Jochberg will escort you as far as the enemy lines. I shall expect you back here a quarter of an hour from now, ready to receive your orders. The rest of you may dismiss."

The orderly-room began to empty. Lieutenant von Dubitsch, relieved that someone else had undertaken such a dangerous mission, was the first to go. Eglofstein and Castel-Borckenstein lingered at the door for a moment, each determined to give the other precedence.

Castel-Borckenstein made an infinitesimal gesture of invitation. "Baron?" he said.

"Count?" Eglofstein rejoined with a stiff little bow.

Someone blew out the candles. I continued to hug the stove in the darkness, loath to leave the warmth that was drying my sodden clothes. The colonel's gruff, indignant voice made itself heard outside.

"Well, Brockendorf, what the devil do you want now?"

"It's about our quarters, Colonel," Brockendorf said pleadingly.

"Brockendorf, you're pestering me again. I already told you: there
are
no other quarters."

"But Colonel, I know of a billet that would house my whole company."

"Very well, take it. Why trouble me if you know of one?"

Brockendorf hesitated. "The Spaniards, Colonel . . ."

"The Spaniards? Pay no heed to the Spaniards — throw them out. Let them fend for themselves."

"Bravo, Colonel, no sooner said than done!" Brockendorf cried delightedly. I heard him blunder down the short flight of steps to the street, loudly voicing his heartfelt enthusiasm as he went.

"A paragon, our colonel!" he exclaimed. "A true father to

his men, I've always said so. Anyone who maligns him is a blackguard!"

The colonel's ponderous footsteps receded into the interior of the house. A door closed and silence fell, broken only by the crackle of the flames in the stove.

I saw, when my eyes had become accustomed to the darkness around me, that I was not alone: Salignac was still standing in the middle of the room.

Years have gone by since then. Looking back, I find that the passage of time has cast an uncertain twilight over much that once stood out sharp and distinct in my mind's eye, and I sometimes fancy that Salignac's strange conversation with someone invisible to me was merely a dream. But no, I was awake, I know. It was only when Eglofstein returned with the colonel and the room was illumined by their candle's friendly light - only in that brief instant that I yielded to the illusion that their entrance had roused me from a sinister and oppressive nightmare. An illusion it was, however. I was awake throughout, and I clearly recall my surprise on discerning Salignac's figure in the gloom. I wondered why he had remained behind, for I knew that he had been ordered to return to his quarters and disguise himself as a Spanish peasant or muleteer. Time went by, but still he continued to stand motionless, staring at the wall.

I naturally concluded, when I heard him whispering, that there must be someone else in the room — Donop, perhaps, or one of the Hessian officers, or the surgeon, but what could they be discussing in the darkness with such secrecy? My eyes explored the gloom. The desk, the chair with Eglofstein's cloak draped over the arm, the two oak chests containing regimental papers, the small table in the corner on which lay Eglofstein's silver field toilet and an earthenware wash-basin — all these things I made out, together with Salignac's shadowy form in the middle of the room, but of the surgeon or some brother officer I could see no sign.

Weary though I was, the spectacle aroused my curiosity. With whom could Salignac be conversing so earnestly, and where could that mysterious, unseen personage be lurking? I closed my eyes the better to listen, but Salignac's low voice was drowned by the wind that rattled the door and buffeted the windows. The warmth of the stove, which bathed part of the room in a faint glow, was making me drowsy. I groped my way back to the heap of firewood and pillowed my head on my arms, and it may be that I truly dozed off for some moments before Salignac's laughter jolted me awake.

Salignac was laughing, yes, but not in any mirthful way. His laughter conveyed some indefinable emotion. Hatred, perhaps, or defiance and disdain? No, none of those. Despair and dread? Not those either. Derision and contempt? No, I had never before heard such laughter and could fathom its significance as little as I understood the words its author flung at empty space a moment later.

"Do you call me again?" I heard him cry. "Ah no, Kindly One, from you I hope for nothing. Ah no, Wise and Merciful One, you have too often betrayed me in the past."

I pressed close to the wall and listened with bated breath as Salignac went on.

"You mean to delude me with false hopes — you mean to see me disappointed, afflicted and despairing. I know your cruel purpose. No, Righteous One, you that beguile time and eternity with your vengeful whims, I mistrust you. I know that you never forget."

He fell silent as if listening to some voice that came to him out of the roar of the wind and the rain. Then, slowly and reluctantly, he took a step forward.

"You order me? Very well, I must obey you still. Is that your wish? So be it, I shall go, but know this: the journey on which you send me I undertake for one who is mightier than you.

Again he listened unspeaking in the gloom, and again I could not tell whence - from what abyss or far-off place — his answer came, for I heard none of it. He drew himself erect.

"Your voice is as the tempest, yet I do not flinch. He whom I serve has the mouth of a lion, and his voice rings out across the blood-stained fields of this world from a thousand throats."

All at once the fire in the stove flared up and gave me a momentary glimpse of his sallow, ecstatic face. Then darkness enveloped it once more.

"Yes," I heard him exult, "it is he! Do not lie! He is the Promised One, the Just One, for all the exalted signs are fulfilled. He is come from the island of the sea and wears ten crowns upon his head, as it was foretold. Where is his equal, and who can contend with him? Power has been given him over all nations, and all who dwell on earth shall worship him!"

I shrank when I heard these words, because I recognized them as a description of the Antichrist, the foe of mankind who employs his portents and marvels, victories and triumphs to exalt himself above God and His servants. The seals of life were shattered before my eyes, and I suddenly discerned the ferment of the age and perceived its mysterious, terrible purpose. Overcome with horror, I yearned to jump up, flee from the room and be alone, but my limbs would not move. I lay there like a helpless captive whose chest is crushed by some mountainous weight, and the voice in the darkness, gaining strength, rang out in triumph and rebellion, exultation and defiance.

"Tremble, wretch that you are! The end of your power is nigh. Where are those that fight on your behalf? Where are the hundred and forty-four thousand who wear your name upon their brow? Them I cannot see, but He is come, the Terrible One, the Vanquisher, and He will destroy your earthly kingdom!"

I strove to cry out, but in vain. All that escaped my lips was a low, agonized groan, and I was again compelled to hear the voice that rose above the roar of the wind and the rain, which continued to buffet the window-panes without respite.

"I stand here before you, as I did of old, and see you as powerless and dispirited as you were then. What is there to prevent me from raising my fist once more and driving it into that hateful countenance?"

He broke off abruptly as the door swung open and candlelight flooded the room. Eglofstein and the colonel appeared on the threshold.

For a fraction of a second I saw Salignac gazing, fist clenched and face contorted, at an effigy of the Redeemer mounted on the whitewashed wall. Then his rigid features relaxed. He lowered his arm, turned about, and calmly walked over to the colonel, who stared at him and frowned.

"Still here, Salignac? I ordered you to return to your quarters and make ready. Time is running out. What have you been doing?"

"Praying, Colonel," said Salignac, "but I'm ready now."

The colonel had meanwhile looked around the room and caught sight of me.

"Why, there's Jochberg," he said with a smile. "The youngster fell asleep beside the stove, I'll warrant. Well, Jochberg, you look as if you're fresh from the arms of Morpheus."

Although I myself felt as if I had slept and dreamed heavily, I shook my head. The colonel paid me no further attention and readdressed himself to Salignac.

"You were instructed to take off your uniform and disguise yourself as a peasant or muleteer."

"I propose to ride as I am, Colonel."

The colonel's expression was a mixture of surprise, anger and dismay.

"Are you mad, Salignac?" he said sharply. "You'll be shot by the first enemy sentry to set eyes on you."

"I'll ride him down."

"The bridge over the Alcar is within range of the enemy's guns."

"I'll cross it at a gallop."

The colonel stamped his foot in a rage.

"Damned obstinacy! Figueras lies on your route, and the guerrillas hold the village in strength. You'll never get through."