In a Field of Blue

by Liviero, Gemma

  He barely examined our faces, hurriedly scanning Jerome’s identity card before handing it back. But I noticed another officer standing behind him, looking over his shoulder, scrutinizing all of us while we stood with uncertainty. Several times the officer, a captain, made eye contact with me, and I suspected there was something menacing behind the gaze, and more than the pillage of food and a brief interrogation.

  The older sergeant waved Helene forward to present an identity card that the British had issued each resident in the region as part of their security. Jerome had given our name as Lavier, which was not questioned at the time. The German soldier studied Helene’s card briefly, without acknowledging her at all; then, as he moved to hand it back to her, the captain caught his arm to retrieve the card. The younger man introduced himself to us in well-versed French, though this formality was brusque rather than considerate. He was young, clean-shaven but for a small, narrow mustache. He did not look either tired or bored. I noticed that his eyes were very sharp, and he took check of everything in the room. He then eyed Helene, his gaze dropping to her belly before carefully examining the document that had her photograph and the name of Helene Lavier.

  “You are married since?” asked Captain Lizt.

  “Yes,” said Helene.

  “Can I see the certificate?”

  I felt my knees go weak.

  “Unfortunately, much of our papers were destroyed by your war machines,” said Jerome. He pointed to the destruction at the back of the house, where some of the wreckage had been removed. The captain ignored him.

  “You had some men staying here, I have been told.”

  “Yes, Captain,” said Jerome, only this time his voice took a more severe tone. “We did our part as we were asked, though we had little choice. Unfortunately now because of the war, our accommodation is much smaller.”

  He was sending a message that there was no room for German soldiers here. We could already tell that the experience would be less amiable since our two countries were far from friends.

  “And where is your husband?” the captain asked Helene.

  “He is in Paris, working,” Jerome replied for her.

  “I wasn’t speaking with you,” said Lizt curtly, without looking his way, before continuing to direct his questioning to Helene. “Where does he work?”

  I stepped forward also at this point, the top of my arm brushing hers for support.

  “He works in a bank,” said Helene.

  The captain pressed his lips tightly together and stared at her for a moment.

  “I have had word from someone that your husband is an officer in the English army.”

  I wondered at first who would have said this. Since Jerome had gone to speak to Gerard, the tavern owner, about his song, he had been polite toward us whenever we passed, but there was a touch of resentment perhaps from the humiliation. French people found it hard to hide their true feelings. But then it could be anyone protecting their families by diverting the attention from them. Helene stood still. She had never been a good liar, not like I was. It was just a matter of time before her silence would condemn her.

  “The priest here says there was no wedding, and he has no record of it,” said the captain.

  “The marriage took place in Paris,” said Jerome, interrupting again.

  The captain paused for a moment, the corner of his mouth rising with a hint of cruel amusement.

  “I believe that it is more likely that you carry an English bastard,” he said.

  “You are quite mistaken,” said Jerome forcefully.

  “There are some in the town who believe so, too.”

  “Then they are mistaken also,” said Jerome.

  “It remains to be seen what the truth turns up, but, Monsieur Lavier,” he said, his words clipped and his manner cold, “your daughters are to come immediately to our headquarters to be questioned.”

  “But that sounds highly irregular—”

  “Irregular how, Monsieur Lavier?”

  “They are innocent women. They do not need interrogation,” he said. “My grandmother was from Germany. This war is not personal. If it is provisions you need, I will gladly help you.”

  “Unfortunately, it is your civic duty to help us regardless of your generous words.”

  He spoke then in German to the sergeant, who stepped forward and grabbed both Helene and me by the arms.

  “Stop that immediately!” said Jerome. “Mariette is just a girl. What could you possibly have to glean from her?”

  The sergeant jostled us both toward the exit, with Jerome following too closely.

  “You can take me instead,” said Jerome.

  Captain Lizt withdrew his pistol from his belt to point it at Jerome.

  “Step away!” said the captain.

  Jerome waited several seconds, and I sent him pleading looks to stop him from inciting them further. I would get us out of this. I had to.

  “I will bring them peacefully in my cart,” Jerome offered. “You can follow us.”

  The captain spoke again to the sergeant, who continued to lead us away.

  “Let me at least follow you,” said Jerome to the captain. “Helene is very close to giving birth. At least I am there if anything happens.”

  Lizt waved the tip of his gun at Jerome impatiently, indicating that he could follow.

  “If you try to do anything, I can tell you that your daughters—a term that is not shared by everyone—may get hurt in any cross fire or altercation.”

  It was a not-so-subtle threat that he would likely aim at one of us.

  Outside, the air was warm, the insects buzzing with new life. On a day like today, I would have taken Hester for a run, or Carmello if he were alive. The captain spoke to two others who had been waiting outside. Lizt and the sergeant climbed onto their horses, while the other soldiers put us in handcuffs and tied a rope between our shackles and their saddles. They, too, remounted, and we were led then like dogs, following them in the direction of town.

  I saw Helene rub her belly and knew the baby was kicking ferociously. I had felt the baby a number of times, less than eight months grown. She looked at me with resignation. I knew Helene would be tired and wanting to sit down. She had not slept properly for days, a combination of the baby kicking and the fact that she was anxious with no word from Edgar. She wore a gold ring that had belonged to Jerome’s wife, and as we held hands, I twisted it tenderly. At one point she gripped her belly.

  I signed at her to see if she was all right.

  She signed back that the baby was restless.

  “Stop that,” said the older sergeant, noting our communication.

  There was no chance to speak with her to match our stories should we be interrogated separately. The walk took close to an hour, and when we reached the town, Helene was clearly exhausted. Several bystanders watched us curiously, and some turned in shock as they saw us. I saw Felix, Gerard’s son, who was still not over his infatuation with me. He was about to step forward to ask what was happening, but I shook my head at him.

  When we stopped outside the town hall, I saw Jerome not far behind in the trap. Something in my heart gave way, and I could sense his feeling of helplessness. He had done everything for us, but he could do nothing now. Several others from the town were grouped and watching curiously.

  As the men dismounted, there were loud shouts from inside the building, and a German officer then marched a man out the front doors and down to the cobbled pavement. Everyone stopped to watch, even the soldiers who were leading us in.

  The man, his wrists manacled behind him, was suddenly pushed away closer to where we stood. He stumbled and then stood up to face us. His shirt was torn, and his face was beaten until it was purple and so swollen it was hard to recognize the person beneath.

  The officer who had pushed him forward then pointed his gun toward the legs of the prisoner before turning sideways to peruse the many who had stopped to watch. Some, however, had cautiously disappeared inside buil
dings by this stage.

  “This man,” the German officer called out in French, “has been caught trying to send his son away with a message about our weapons and our numbers here. I do not need to tell you residents of Bailleul that if anyone else is thinking about doing the same, this is what will happen.”

  He raised his arm and fired the gun suddenly at the head of the man. I jumped at the small explosion and started shaking, and I caught Helene just as she fainted. We had seen injustice in our lifetimes, but we had only yet heard of executions and never before witnessed such savagery.

  “Please,” I begged a soldier to help me lift Helene. He obliged, but another soldier pulled me away, and I watched Helene being carried unconscious toward a barred cell after we entered the town hall building.

  “She needs water,” I called out before being forced down some stairs and into another cell in the basement.

  I was there for what seemed like hours, until it grew dark. The walls were thick around me, though occasionally I heard wailing from another room. Sometimes soldiers would walk past, and I would call to them to find out what was happening, but their ears were blocked to any pleas. I dozed, sitting against the wall, and was woken suddenly by the jangle of keys as a soldier unlocked the door. He ordered me to get up, then led me to an office upstairs, and I could see no sign of Helene along the way.

  I was handed a glass of water and told to sit on a chair and wait. My throat was so dry, and my lips cracked. I drank the water greedily, hoping that Helene had been given some, too. Two soldiers stood by the door. They didn’t speak directly to me, but occasionally they nodded in my direction and joked to one another in German.

  Captain Lizt walked in a short time later. He sat on a chair opposite and began inspecting me with eyes that were scornful and intense, as if I was both insignificant and indispensable at the same time.

  “What is your name?” he asked, while one of the soldiers was relegated to taking notes.

  “Where is my sister?”

  He slapped me suddenly across the face, so hard it forced my head to turn. I stayed like that for a moment, my hand against my bruised cheek, while my mind turned to thoughts of the man I’d seen shot, and the realization that I was no longer free to speak my mind. For years I had done as I wished, but my world had unjustly changed once more, and Captain Lizt now held my life in his hands. I sat up straight to look him in the eyes, my hands clenched in my lap. I was no longer dealing with people who were fair and reasonable and who treated women differently to men. I had grown so spoiled by Jerome and others that I had almost forgotten about the cruelty that existed elsewhere.

  “My name is Mariette Lavier. I am sister to Helene Lavier—”

  “That is a lie. She is Helene without a surname, just like you, and there was no marriage.”

  He had staring, shining eyes that refused to let go of my own. I didn’t like the way he now looked at me, not just with suspicion but also with disgust.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Bailleul.”

  “That is a lie.”

  “I’m telling you the truth.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. The Germans had lost a lot of men, and we French were collectively inhospitable and without a lot of food to offer. If he’d had the manpower, munitions, and authority, he would have wiped our towns and villages off the map then and there instead of later on.

  “It doesn’t matter what you say. I was curious only. I have heard the truth from others.”

  I was quiet. There was nothing I could think of to say, and my thoughts were with Helene, wondering what she had said and what had been said to her and if she had revealed anything. If they had learned anything, I did not believe it was from her.

  “You and your sister are gypsy runaways who cunningly wormed their way into a stranger’s house, pretending now to be respectable.”

  “That is not true—”

  He put up his hand to stop my talking, while both fury and fear hammered inside my chest.

  “You can deny it all you want. But I have just been inquiring about you myself from several in the area. They have all cooperated. I am merely quoting some of the things that were said.”

  I hid my dismay.

  “Where is my sister?” I asked.

  “That is not your concern any longer. We know the truth about her. She is a spy for the British, and she carries an Englishman’s baby. I believe she may have been sending secret messages after we arrived.”

  “That is not true. Whoever is feeding you this information is a liar.”

  “She will remain in prison until we decide what to do with her.”

  “But you can’t!” I said, standing up. “She is no spy! What is there to tell? You bombed our villages and towns, raided them, and now you stomp around as if you own us, too!”

  “Quiet!” he shouted, his small teeth clamped together viciously. “I will detain you both permanently, and you will be charged with being a spy also. Perhaps your false papa also.”

  He frightened me now because he spoke of Jerome. Poor Papa, who deserved no more suffering.

  “Sit down!” he said in a quieter voice.

  I did so because I was thinking of Jerome.

  “In return for her information, your sister has asked that you be set free.”

  “What information?”

  “She has told the truth about the baby’s father, and this has been verified. I might say that there are several who don’t like you much, who were eager to give up the information.”

  It seemed possible that those like Gerard, who had never really accepted Helene and me, were the likely culprits to give away our past.

  “Can I see her?”

  “No. If you attempt to return here, I will arrest you also.”

  I burst into tears and bowed my head, and I heard him tch his disgust as he left the room. One of the other soldiers picked me up by the arm and led me out to the front of the town hall. I looked at the first cell, where several people slept on the floor, and Helene was not amongst them.

  I ran all the way home and found no one there, and I was frightened at first that Jerome was taken, too. Running back along the road a short way toward the town, I saw him riding toward me. He jumped out of the trap, and I rushed into his arms.

  “I do not know where they have taken her!” I said.

  I rambled everything out to him in one long sentence broken only by bursts of tears that choked my words.

  “Your sister would do everything to protect you. But she also cares for the baby. Perhaps she has said and bargained for more than we know.”

  “They called her a spy, Papa! All because she carries Edgar’s baby.”

  When I stepped away from him, I saw the split on his cheek.

  He had tried to see her, and they had pulled him in and asked some questions. Jerome said that they considered Helene a traitor now.

  “They also believe that Edgar will come back,” he said.

  Jerome said he would try again tomorrow to visit her, and he would offer Captain Lizt food or money for the privilege.

  I saw then that he wasn’t looking well. He appeared dazed, and I learned that he had temporarily lost consciousness after he was struck. I helped him back toward the house, both of us hobbling alongside Hester. I had never seen Jerome ill in his life, and he went then straight to bed.

  I tossed, turned, and cried all night. Helene had been with me my whole life. To have her gone didn’t make sense. She was innocent. Jerome was innocent. Edgar was in a hospital somewhere! He would not know of this perhaps for weeks or months. But what did it matter? He had abandoned us. It was disastrous for us all.

  CHAPTER 26

  I fell asleep just before dawn and woke up to the sounds of Jerome outside clipping Mira to the ropes of the trap. An omelet was waiting for me on the table, from the last of the eggs, which Jerome had kept hidden. We knew that it was only a matter of time before Hester and Mira were taken, and the thought made me suddenly rush
to the barn to cry into Hester’s neck. She smelled of good memories, so sweet and earthy, and she nuzzled me in response.

  “I am going to try and see Helene,” Jerome said back in the kitchen.

  I ate without appetite, and we sipped tea silently across from each other, trying to formulate a plan from nothing.

  Jerome got up from the table to reach for a jar on the top of the kitchen shelf. He took out some money and said that he would try and buy Helene out of prison. I said that I would go, too, though I didn’t like his plan. He knew there was no point in telling me not to come but said that I had to remain out of sight when we got close to the town hall, now overrun with Germans.

  We went first to the home of the deputy mayor to inquire about our rights. He had tried to leave the town but had been found in one of the villages by the Germans, and upon learning of his occupation, they had put him to use to supervise the remaining residents working now for the Germany army.

  The mayor shook his head. He advised us that from the following day one member from each family was allowed to visit, but only to take food to their loved ones. They were not allowed to talk. The main cell was for people held for interrogation, but Helene and the rest of the prisoners, all incarcerated for various hearsay-only crimes of treason, were housed across two cells at the back of the building. The mayor also told Jerome his plan to offer money was futile.

  “The Germans are more likely to imprison you, too, for attempted bribery,” said the mayor to Jerome. We left for home again with little hope for an end to this madness.

  Jerome was the only one who could visit since I was ordered by Captain Lizt to not see Helene. Each night I would listen to the shelling in the distance and hope that no bombs fell on the town hall, that Helene would survive another night. And each morning I would bake a small cake made from seeds and fruit, and we would take the trap into the town. I would wait down the street with the trap while Jerome made the remainder of the journey to the jail.

  “She is doing well, considering,” he told me on the journey home, and I wondered if perhaps he was lying to spare my feelings.

  “I must go see her!” I said in frustration. Two nights had gone by, and still I could barely sleep without Helene. “I don’t care if they arrest me.”