Jerome removed the rifle from his back and held it lightly in his hands. “You know what I think? I think you are a dirty liar, a rotten Boche who escaped from being gunned down by our Allied airplanes and now wants to hide out here.”
“That is not true. You have no idea — ”
Jerome drew the bolt of his rifle. “Sing us La Marseillaise, Boche.”
“I told you I don’t feel well. Look at me, goddamit! I am wounded and in need of help! I just need your help. I must get back to my regiment, tell them that I am safe, and revenge my fallen comrades from the hands of the filthy Boche.”
He touched his brow and looked at the sweat on his fingers. He was not going to let a bunch of peasants get the best of him, not after all that had happened to him so far. The anger he felt back in the woods was burning up stronger inside of him.
One of the drunken fellows approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder, grabbing his uniform and spinning him around. In an instant, von Krommel scooped up the pistol lying by his drink, cocked it, and pointed it at the man.
“Back away,” he said.
The man did as he was told and raised his hands in the air.
The Count stood up, pointing his gun around at the different men before him. He finally settled on the barman. “Drop the damn rifle you imbecile or this man dies.”
Jerome, without taking his eyes off the Count, slowly lowered his rifle.
“Good. Now, I want fresh clothes and a horse. Now!”
One of the men walked over to von Krommel and spat in his face.
The Count could not believe what the man had just done. He wiped the slimy saliva off his cheek with a trembling hand. “What did you dare to do?”
Von Krommel pulled the trigger on the man. Nothing happened.
He tried again, and again. The gun was empty.
The entire tavern burst out into laughter. He opened the cylinder and found that there was nothing inside. He let out a scream of exasperation and threw the pistol on the ground. “You are a bunch of lowlife imbeciles! You stupid — ”
Jerome picked his rifle back up and pointed it at him. The Count took a few steps back. “Look, what do you want? You want money? I can give you that. You want riches? I can give you that as well. Just tell me what you want.”
The men around him began to draw themselves closer to him until they formed a circle.
“Just tell me what you want. You will have it,” the Count said.
The circle began getting tighter. He turned to look at the serious faces before him.
“Stop,” said von Krommel. “You have a choice. I am giving you damn a choice!”
But the men of Audinghen had already chosen.
LIV
There was a flurry of voices, a hubbub of moans and dialogue too confused for him to make out. He lay still and listened. Darkness still enshrouded both his surroundings and mind, but he kept listening. Slowly, the talking began getting clearer, less muddled, louder. If he strained, he could make out some of the words being spoken. It was as if that thick bank of fog gradually began clearing from his consciousness.
He opened his eyes.
Light assaulted him and he shut them once again. He waited a few seconds and tried again, more cautiously. Shadows walked by him, talking, gesticulating, doing things he could not understand, not yet. He pried his eyes open a little more and looked at where the source of light was coming from. It was high above him, on the other side of wherever he was, up close to the roof; a large, window shaped glass decoration. He marvelled at the colours, bright and beautiful. The more he stared at it the more he came to the realisation that it depicted something, people doing things.
Someone came close to where he was and looked down at him. A woman, dressed in white with what to him looked like a nurse’s hat.
“You are finally awake,” she said in English. “I will go and fetch him for you.”
She disappeared from his view and he had no idea what she was talking about. He tried talking, asking where he was, but his mouth felt dry.
He heard footsteps of someone running towards him. A man appeared before him and he instantly recognised him.
It was his brother.
Henry Arthur smiled. He looked different from when he had last seen him. The cuts and bruises were all gone, as was his beard, and he looked clean and professor-like just like the old days with that old tweed suit and an even more ancient looking cravat. His dark hair was pulled back, slick and neatly combed.
“Melbourne, I am so glad you are awake!” he said.
Melbourne tried sitting up but a jolt of pain shot through his entire body making him wince.
“Slowly,” the nurse said. She helped him sit up and placed a few pillows behind him.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“You are in an improvised hospital inside a church in St. Omer,” his brother said.
Melbourne looked around him. He saw that the shadows he had seen earlier were doctors and nurses. They walked about beds that took the place of the usual church benches, caring and tending the wounded men that lay in them.
“How in the world did I get here?” Melbourne asked. He still felt terribly weak.
“You don’t remember much, do you?” Henry Arthur said. “I came looking for you just shortly after you left to follow Fräulein Doktor into the woods. I heard gunshots and a little later I found you lying on the ground, unconscious. Together with the No. 9 Squadron, we flew you to the nearest town to get medical attention. The bullet you got on your side passed through you, and this is truly unexplainable, it barely skimmed your vital organs. It was a miracle to say the least. A doctor managed to stop the bleeding and tended the wound a bit but you needed transportation to St. Omer to be able to get further medical assistance. That is how you got here. You have been here for a week and you lost a lot of blood but together with the doctors and nurses here you managed to make it through. And I am damn glad my brother that you did.”
Melbourne slowly started to remember, the destruction of the Iron Shadow, the fight with Fräulein Doktor, the gunshot, her goodbye kiss, him falling to the ground.
“Where is she?” he asked. “Fräulein Doktor?”
“Well, I have to give you bad news on that one. She managed to escape, seems to have disappeared into thin air. We are trying to look for her but so far we have had no success. Sources have told me that she fled to Lille under the protection of Prince Rupprecht. She is probably out of the country by now. God, that cunning devil.” He shook his head. “I do however have some good news as well. Count von Krommel was captured in a town not too far from where we destroyed the Iron Shadow. He will be tried and imprisoned shortly.”
The two brothers stared at each and smiled.
“We did it, didn’t we?” Melbourne asked.
Henry Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder.
“We did. Well actually, you did. If it wasn’t for you we both would have been dead by now and the terrifying scheme of the Count would have come to fruition. Thank you, my brother. You managed to conclude what I was not capable of doing. I am grateful and proud of you.”
Melbourne smiled like he had not done since before the war.
“I am so glad you are still alive,” he said.
“And I am glad you are too. I thought I had lost you there for a second.”
“You won’t get rid of me so easily.”
“And I am glad to hear that. I missed you so much.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Well, the war is not over yet, sadly. There is much more to do and many more von Krommels and Fräulein Doktors to stop before it can all be said and done. The Foreign Office is waiting for me to report back, I think they have a new mission for me in mind.” He paused for a few seconds. “Melbourne, I know espionage may sound dishonest and crooked. We are not considered as valorous as a soldier in the trench or a pilot in the sky; we receive no medals for our deeds, no recognition. We barely get a thank you and we will not
enter the history books. Ours is a vicious world where morality and loyalty barely exist, replaced by skulduggery and deceit. And yet, I believe that espionage will be the key to winning this war. Knowing what the enemy thinks and believes can ultimately save us from this nonsensical bloodshed. I put my faith in espionage.”
Melbourne stared at his brother, reflecting on his words.
“Well now, you need some rest,” Henry Arthur said. “I will be back later tonight to check how you are doing.”
*
Melbourne placed the empty bowl of soup on a table beside him and lay down in his bed. The sunlight that shone through the stained glass was gone leaving its wonderful colours absent of life. Abundant candles had been lit to illuminate the church casting long shadows on the ancient stone walls creating a spectral, yet cosy atmosphere.
“Melbourne,” said a voice.
As promised, his brother was back, and this time he had brought a guest along with him.
“Lieutenant Summers, I hope you are feeling much better,” Boulger said.
Melbourne slowly sat up, wincing a little at the hole in his side.
“Mr. Boulger, I am glad to see you,” he said.
“Your brother has recounted me your deeds and I was left aghast. It is incredible what you have done, giving off the location of the Iron Shadow so it could be destroyed and bringing back your brother. Astounding and marvellous!”
“Thank you,” Melbourne said.
“Cameron could not make it in person to congratulate you on the success of your mission but he sends his regards. He is currently in England taking care of some business. And do you know who also sends their regards?”
“Who?”
“The Esmonds.”
“The Esmonds? How are they doing? Where are they?”
“You can ask us yourself,” said a familiar voice nearby.
From behind Boulger, Monsieur and Madame Esmond emerged, holding each other’s arms and smiling as soon as they saw their old guest. Melbourne smiled back, shaking his head, ignoring the pain that hurt his entire body.
“You made it through! They told me the Dutch borders were heavily patrolled, that no one could get through easily.” Melbourne said.
“Oh yes,” said Monsieur Esmond leaning on his cane. His English sounded strange, yet funny. “There were quite a few problems. But nothing that a bit of bribing and some barrier smashing couldn’t solve. Oh boy, it’s quite a story to tell, believe me.”
“How are you my dear?” asked Madame Esmond in French.
“Look at him! He’s never been better!” Monsieur Esmond said.
His wife nudged him with an elbow in his ribs.
“I’m alright. The nurse said I could even be out of here in one week,” Melbourne said.
“We have heard of what happened to you. We were so worried but at the same time happy that you were still alive. We didn’t know what had happened to you after the events of that night when we escaped. You have been in my thoughts since then,” she said.
“Bullet through the side, hey? Like a real man,” said her husband winking.
“I am so glad to see you are doing fine,” Melbourne said. “I can’t believe you are here.”
“It is good to see you are doing alright Remy, I mean, Melbourne,” Monsieur Esmond said.
“What are your plans now? Staying in France?”
“Well, we are thinking of heading out towards Biarritz,” his old host said. “We have heard it’s a lovely place. A nice house by the sea wouldn’t hurt. And it’s quite some distance from this despicable war. And it will also be quite a change from the rain in Brussels.”
“What about you Melbourne?” Madame Esmond eyed him with a worried look.
“Well, as you might have noticed, the war is not over yet. My time as a member of the Secret Service has expired and I’m due to return to my squadron as soon as I’m out of here.”
“You will go back to flying?” she asked.
“Yes,” Melbourne answered.
Madame and Monsieur Esmond looked at each other wistfully.
“Melbourne, you are an honourable and courageous man. May God bless you and may you live a hundred years,” Monsieur Esmond said.
“There will always be a room for you when you come and visit us in Biarritz,” she said.
Melbourne smiled at the couple.
“Thank you,” he said.
*
As the doctors promised, it took another week for Melbourne to be able to heal. He spent it all in the church, recounting tales of his flying days to battered soldiers and teaching wounded French officers to play pontoon and whist. The soldiers became fond of him, as did the nurses, but the French officers were quite annoyed at losing every round.
When he was good enough to walk with the help of a wooden crutch, Melbourne would give a hand to the nurses to tend the injured men, helping to feed them and bandage their wounds. More and more kept coming in during those days bringing horrible news from the Front. At times, there was no space where to put them and the floor was all that the doctors could manage.
The week passed by rapidly and Melbourne, thanking the doctors and nurses that had helped him, said goodbye to the improvised hospital. His side still ached as he moved but with the momentary help of the crutch, he was good enough to return to his squadron.
He took a cab and reached the train station where his adventures had begun a few weeks earlier. Embarking upon the first train headed east, he made it to Merville in just a few hours. From there he took a cab to the aerodrome of the No. 2 Squadron.
As he began walking down the dirt road with fatigue that lead to the converted farm, a whirlwind of memories came back to him. He hoped his friends would still be alive.
In the distance, he could make out the silhouettes of the airplanes, neatly parked one next to the other in the grass field adjacent to the landing strip. He could hear the voices of his companions. Somehow, strangely enough, it felt like home.
The squadron’s fox terrier, Terry, approached Melbourne and barked, wagging his tail frantically left and right. It then sped off to warn the others.
The mechanics stopped working on the airplanes as they saw Melbourne approach. They began mumbling at each other drawing curiosity from the other men around them. A cricket match between the pilots suddenly stopped as they began running towards the dirt road and gathering together looking at the arrival of what they believed to be a lost companion. They began shouting his name and waving their arms.
Melbourne was slightly in pain when he approached them but was happy. The men gathered around him to greet him.
“It’s good to have you back, mate.”
“Where have you been?”
“Welcome back, Melbourne.”
Many of his friends were gathered there and he was happy to see that they were doing fine. There was also an abundance of fresh faces, new recruits that had been taken in while he was gone. Pilots and mechanics from all parts of the aerodrome began gathering to see what was happening and to greet the return of one of their best reconnaissance pilots.
“Melbourne!” It was Douglas.
He ran up his pilot and hugged him. Melbourne winced at the pain.
“Softly, softly,” he said.
Douglas let go of his friend and smiled at him. “Where have you been all this time? What happened to you?”
“It’s a long story, one that requires a few beers at our old pub. And I am glad to see you are doing fine my friend.”
“Without you trying to kill me? Look at me, I have never looked better in my life.”
“Well don’t get too used to it because I’m back.”
There was a sense of feast as the pilots and mechanics followed Melbourne across the aerodrome and to his tent which had been left empty for his return. They left him there, knowing that he needed some rest following the long journey. He was about to enter his tent when a young man called him from behind.
“Sir, are you Lieutenant Melbourne Summer
s?”
“Yes.”
“There is a man here to see you.”
He pointed a little farther behind him. The looks of the man were unmistakable. The young pilot saluted and ran off as Colonel Dunn-Hamming approached Melbourne.
“Lieutenant Summers, it’s nice to see you are still here with us. I was eagerly awaiting your arrival,” he said in his usual monotone voice.
Melbourne greeted him.
“I have heard with great interest of your exploits in Belgium. Quite astonishing, especially for the fact that you barely followed my orders. That could cost you a severe penalty, but why should I have expected anything different from someone like you?”
“I did what I had to do, Sir.”
“Oh yes, yes you did. And despite your propensity for illogical thinking, compulsive actions, and lack of listening skills, you still carried out the mission with success, discovering what the Iron Shadow was. and bringing it down while saving the life of your brother whom we all thought was dead.” He removed his pipe from the interior pocket of his jacket, together with the pouch of tobacco, and began filling it. “Bravo, Lieutenant. I have nothing really to say except congratulations and good job.”
Melbourne felt surprised. “Thank you, Sir.”
He took out a match and lit his pipe, letting out a few puffs of smoke.
“However, I did not come here to merely praise and applaud your achievement. I have come here to put forth a serious proposition.”
“Which is?”
“The war is not over, Lieutenant, and espionage will be needed more now than ever before in history. We need men like you. I believe your skills are wasted in this job of yours you have come back to. They are better suited for the work of a spy.”
Melbourne stared at him in silence.
“What do you say?” Colonel Dunn-Hamming held out his hand.
Melbourne thought for some time as the Colonel stared at him with a blank expression. His thoughts went back to what his brother had told him a week earlier while in the church.
He looked down at Dunn-Hamming’s extended hand. Melbourne looked around at the aerodrome, the airplanes, the warning tower, the barn where they dined. Yes, it did feel like home but it felt like death as well. The initial feeling of joy he had when entering the farm was slowly dissipating. He remembered the friends he lost, the constant mourning that had rendered all the men numb to loss, the pain he had felt countless times on those very fields, the sleepless nights in the tent behind him. How much longer was he going to last? His seat at the dinner table was going to be taken away like he had never existed before, just like all the others who had gone to a better place.
The Iron Shadow Page 31