Fire Below (7 page)

But for the Countess, our way would have been plain enough. After five more days the circus would leave Riechtenburg, crossing the western frontier on Thursday night. Here the country was flat, and the river which made the border was, I knew, used by barges and could not, therefore, be dangerous to men that could swim. Even if the troops were still out – and this seemed unlikely – we ought to be able to evade them without any fuss. But that was a dream. The moment we dared, we must return to Gola. Reason suggested that we should return very soon. What frightened me most of all was that Leonie, hearing no news, might act for herself.

One good thing we had of Vigil, and that was a full night’s rest. But when I awoke the next morning, I then and there made up my mind to leave the circus that night.

When I told George, he nodded.

‘I wondered,’ he said, ‘how long you’d be able to stand it. I would have left at Vardar, but I thought that if you could stick it, why, so could I.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Marching the wrong way is bad for my heart. So is suspense. For all we know, Marya Dresden was taken two hours after we left.’

‘God forbid,’ said I.

‘Amen,’ says George. ‘Never mind. Do we tell Fred Karno, or no?’

‘I think so,’ said I. ‘I’m not mad about his style, but we don’t want to let the man down.’

‘I’ve no compunction,’ said George, ‘about walking out. The man hasn’t helped us – he’s used us. We’ve taken no money and far more than earned our keep. No one would work as we have for this food and three shillings a day.’

‘I know,’ said I. ‘All the same, he’s been very convenient.’

‘So’ve we,’ said George. ‘Very. Never mind. You’re usually right.’

Half an hour later Reubens came down the lines.

‘This afternoon,’ he said, blinking. ‘I’ll want one of you in the ring. Ada kicked up a fuss last night, and these — boys are afraid. What’s more, the mare knows it. She’ll play them up to glory, and so I must have one of you.’

George shot me a glance. Then—

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but we can’t show up like that.’

The Jew looked down his nose.

‘The police won’t be there,’ he said, softly.

‘Perhaps not,’ said George. ‘But, frankly, we mustn’t be seen.’

Reubens tapped his teeth with the knob of his riding whip.

‘This is damned awkward,’ he said. ‘Strikes me I’m guilty of harbouring.’

‘I don’t see that,’ said George. ‘You were short-handed, and we came and asked for a job.’

‘And got it in one,’ said the other. ‘No questions asked. You know as well as I do, I’m taking a hell of a risk.’

‘I fail to see it,’ said George. ‘We’ve given you no cause for suspicion.’

The Jew looked at him curiously.

‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘No cause for suspicion – to date. At least, no cause they can prove.’ He hesitated. ‘Well, don’t give me one – that’s all. If you do – well, I don’t want to hurt you, but I’ve got to look after myself.’

There was a little silence.

‘Do you mean,’ said George, ‘that you want us to enter the ring?’

‘No,’ said the other. ‘I guess I can climb that fence. But don’t show me one that I can’t. You know that we move at midnight?’

‘I’d heard so,’ said George.

‘Well, don’t forget,’ said Reubens.

With that, he was gone.

‘There you are,’ said George. ‘What did I say? That’s what they call “the straight tip.” “Leave me, and I go to the police.” It’s just as well we didn’t tell him.’

I shrugged my shoulders.

‘Business,’ I said. ‘Reubens is a business man.’

‘He’s a dirty dog,’ said George violently.

‘There’s just one thing,’ said I, thinking and speaking my thoughts. ‘Why should he come and say this? Why should he think we were thinking of clearing out?’

George looked at me.

‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘He’d some reason. What does he know?’

The question remained unanswered till near midday.

A boy had come round with papers about ten o’clock, and, whilst he was drawing the rations, we looked at the one Bach had bought.

The manoeuvres which the 4th Brigade was suddenly called upon to perform came to an end last night. In a General Order the GOC expresses his satisfaction with the energy and keenness displayed by all ranks and especially with the alacrity with which they responded to the alarm, the intention to raise which had been kept secret even from the Commanding Officers.

We determined to go that night, moving with the circus and leaving it in the first halt which was called upon the road.

The afternoon performance was nearly done, and the mischievous Ada was kicking her way through her tricks when Bell whipped up to my side.

‘Look, sir,’ says he. ‘There’s Carol. He’s trying to catch your eye.’

It was true.

Clad in white linen, as a peasant, the butler was alternately watching and clapping his chin to his shoulder to see if he was observed. He had come, of course, to tell us the troops were gone.

As I have said, the public was not allowed to approach the lines, but, the show being on, I suppose there had been no one to stop him and Bach and the stable-boys were busy at the mouth of the tent.

I was by the man’s side in an instant.

‘Quick,’ said I. ‘We mustn’t be seen. Is the Countess safe?’

Carol nodded and gave me a little note.

Richard,

Do everything Carol says, and do it at once.

Marya.

As George came hastening, I gave it into his hand.

‘What are we to do, Carol?’

The butler pointed north.

‘On the road over there, sir,’ he said, ‘there is waiting a car. It has just brought me and is ready to take us all back.’

A car…in waiting…

I could hardly believe my ears.

‘Now?’ said George stupidly. ‘Now?’

‘At once, sir. It is very important that you should lose no time.’

‘Go on,’ said George. ‘We’ll be there as soon as you.’

As he turned, came the burst of applause which always followed Ada’s endeavours to dance.

In another instant Bach would be back in the lines. And a hundred yards distant, this side of the gateway which gave from the road to the pitch, sat a couple of mounted police.

Only waiting to take up our coats, George and Bell and I slipped through a gap in the hedge against which the lines had been pitched. Under cover of this we ran the length of the field and then slid down a high bank and into a lane. This ran north and south… A moment later we padded into the road. There was but one car to be seen, for those that were waiting to take people back from the circus were parked to the east. As we hastened towards it, Carol emerged from the field and stood to its door.

The bonnet was facing away, and we could not see who was driving or whether he sat alone, but, as we drew near, the car seemed faintly familiar, as though I had noticed its like a short time before.

As we came up, I heard the engine running…

Then we were all inside, and the door was shut.

Instantly the car moved eastward.

It was a cabriolet, and its hood was up. In front sat two men, wearing dustcoats and peaked blue caps.

‘And now,’ said George, ‘what has happened? How on earth has Madame contrived to get hold of this car?’

‘Sir,’ said Carol, ‘I am simply obeying orders. I know no more than do you what Madame has done.’

Both of us stared at the man.

‘You know more than we do,’ said I. ‘Have you come straight from the forge?’

‘No, sir. I’ve come from Bariche, where Madame is now.’

‘Bariche?’ screeched George. ‘
Bariche
? Oh, give me strength. D’you mean she’s over the border?’

‘That’s right, sir. We’re going there now.’

‘But how on earth–’

‘Sir,’ said Carol, ‘I am as bewildered as you. Less than an hour ago Madame gave me that note to give you and told me to enter the car.’

‘At Bariche?’

‘At Bariche, sir. At the sign of
The Broken Egg
.’

‘When did she leave Gola?’

‘Yesterday, sir. A little before midday.’

‘But why? How came she to leave?’

‘I do not know, sir. I was at work in the fields, and when I came back she was gone. Last night this car came to fetch me, but I have not spoken with Madame except to receive her orders to come and fetch you.’

Try as we would, we could wring no more out of the man.

The car went wide of Vigil and joined the Austrian road four miles from the town. I think it was the sight of a corner which I shall never forget that flicked that page of my memory which I had not been able to turn.

‘
My God!
’ I cried all of a sudden. ‘
This is Grieg’s car
.’

For a moment there was dead silence.

Then—

‘That’s right,’ said George quietly. ‘And those two chauffeurs are police.’ He sat back and closed his eyes. ‘After this nothing will surprise me. I don’t know what Marya’s done, but I take my hat right off and put it under the seat. I mean, this is more than artistic. Grieg’s car at our disposal to take us out.
Grieg’s
. I suppose Prince Paul will be at Elsa with a bunch of sweet peas.’

At the mention of Elsa, Carol moistened his lips.

‘When you came to the frontier, sir, I was to tell you to be careful to sit out of sight.’

For a moment we stared at the man.

Then—

‘I give it up,’ said George weakly. ‘I thought she’d been pulling wires, but it seems I was wrong. Marya has done it on them. Marya. Marya Dresden has done it on Grieg.’

I confess that I sat confounded.

That Marya Dresden unaided should have brought off this dazzling coup was inconceivable. We had left her shaken and exhausted, with the fear of arrest upon her, thankful to hide her head. Now by some extraordinary means, she was not only up and doing, but had herself escaped and was bringing us to safety upon our arch-enemy’s back. The thing had the smack of an exploit out of a page of Dumas – of arras and wine and a ring which those who were shown were bound to obey.

Presently we came to Elsa, and George and I sat back, while the others kneeled down on the floor.

The precaution seemed to be needless, for the car and its police were plainly known to the sentries, and those of both countries merely nodded their heads.

Even at this distance of time I find it hard to express the relief we felt at regaining Austrian soil. For four full days we had lived and moved in a nightmare of apprehension, helplessly stumbling upon ground which we knew very well might any moment give way. Riechtenburg was a cage into which we had been decoyed: its keepers were men from whom, if we were taken we could expect no mercy because both we and they were without the law. No unhappy wretch stepping out of the jurisdiction of the Court of Star Chamber ever breathed more freely than we.

Twenty minutes later the car slid into Bariche and up to the door of an inn.

Carol was out in a flash.

‘Madame is on the first floor, sir. Will you please to go up?’

We needed no bidding, and George ran before me into the humble house.

At the head of the stairs was a servant, with a tray in her hands.

‘The Countess Dresden,’ cried George. ‘Which are her rooms?’

The woman stared.

‘The Countess Dresden?’ she said.

‘The lady,’ I cried. ‘The lady that came here today – yesterday. The one that has rooms on this floor.’

Before the woman could answer—

‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Bell’s voice.

I turned to see him standing with a note in his hand.

‘What is this?’ said I, for the envelope bore no address.

‘I’ve no idea, sir. Carol put it into my hands and asked me to give it to you.’

With a cry, George snatched the letter and ripped its envelope off.

My dears,

I am to have a pardon, but I could not get one for you. You must never, never enter this country again. One condition of my pardon is that I do not leave Riechtenburg, and another that no communication whatever shall pass between you and me. I am sure you will respect this for my sake. Goodbye.

Marya.

George let fall the letter and clapped his hands to his face.

As he did so, I heard the sound of gears being hastily changed…

I took the stairs at one bound, but George was first in the street.

The car, which had gone about, was thirty yards from the inn and was gathering speed. Carol was standing on the step, holding fast to the screen.

‘Stop!’ yelled George Hanbury. ‘
Stop!
’

His cries were disregarded, and twenty seconds later the car swung round a bend and we saw it no more.

Passers by had stopped and were staring, but George stood still in the road, with his eyes on the cloud of dust.

After a little, I went up and took his arm.

He turned at that, as though I had aroused him from a stupor, and I cannot forget the tragedy in his face.

‘She’s bought us off,’ he said thickly. ‘Marya’s bought us off. She’s not done a deal with the Prince, or our being seen by the sentries wouldn’t have mattered a damn. Grieg’s car. Grieg’s men. She’s done a deal with Grieg…and she’s bought us off.’

Sitting in a tiny room at
The Broken Egg
, we sought to piece together what fragments of truth we had.

Marya had made some arrangement to which she knew very well that we should never consent. Carol had, therefore, been taken into her confidence and had been charged to betray us into playing her game. Everything was pointing to some private arrangement with Grieg, who was without any doubt double-crossing the Prince. Her statement that she was to be pardoned was, therefore, no more than surmise: only the Prince could pardon, and the Prince so far knew nothing of what had been done. As for the ‘conditions’ of her pardon, these she had clearly invented to keep us out of the country and prevent us from asking questions to which she could make no satisfactory reply.

Of the nature of her bargain with Grieg we dared not think. The man was harsh and brutal and knew no law. More. He had good reason to hate us with all his might. The price he had set upon our freedom must have been very high…