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"You don't say." Paige was struggling with something in the water. "Get your boots, coat, goggles, gauntlets and helmet off. Then pray you can swim eight miles in this stuff."
"Why?"
"Because it's the only way we can get back alive...you can swim can't you?"
"Y-es." Denny's response was doubtful. "But I don't know how far I can swim."
"Well holler when you can't go any further and you can take a tow. Now get that stuff off and get swimming, I want to be away from here quick." Paige finished wedging the oilskin wrapped notepad into his waist band and promptly stripped off his coat and other excess articles, before putting his head down and using a steady breaststroke to pull himself out of the breaking waves and into the relatively calm water. Some half mile from the initial landing site he stopped and trod water while his eyes searched the seas for Denny. Twenty minutes passed before he finally spotted Denny some twenty yards further out. A quick sprint had him alongside the pilot.
"HEY!" Denny stopped swimming in response to Paige's yell and gripped his arm.
"What?"
"We need to stick together from here on. You take the lead and don't use over arm."
"Why not?"
"Too much splash, those fighters won't take long to get some bombers out here and I don't like the idea of having a bomb landing near me."
"Oh." Denny didn't actually know why Paige was worried about bombs in the water, but he didn't feel like arguing so he put his head down and started stroking steadily. Denny didn't know how much later it was when Paige suddenly gave a hard yank on his leg.
"Don't burn out, we've got a minimum of five more hours of this ahead."
"What?" Denny gaped and promptly got a mouthful of sea water.
"We've a minimum of five hours ahead of us. You didn't crash us close to the lines, we're still four miles short of them, there's a mile between the two lines and then two miles back to shore."
"I can't swim that far!"
"I didn't expect you would be able to, but keep swimming until you literally can't kick any more. It'll keep you a lot warmer if you're swimming and we'll go a bit faster if I'm not towing you."
"Okay." Denny turned and started swimming again, he didn't know how much longer he could last for, but he was sure that it was more then five minutes.
Paige blinked thoughtfully at the heavy barbed wire he had just ripped his hand open on, then frowned thoughtfully out further into the channel, there it was, fifty yards out, the white buoy bobbed slightly in the swell. Paige took a mouthful of water then spat it out as the bitter salt taste ripped through the fog of hypothermia, the effect was not as notable now as it had been an hour ago, and that was a very bad sign. Paige hauled Denny's limp figure higher up then turned and headed out to the white buoy. Ten minutes later he rounded it and took another break as he tried to get some circulation going in his nether limbs again.
"Are we there?" Denny's head moved slightly.
"Nice to see you're still alive." Paige gave Denny a hefty buffet on the back. "Nope, still got two miles to go, I missed the end of the lines and had to swim out, we're now officially in allied territory."
"Nice to know." Denny tried experimentally to move his arms, but only managed to emit a pained moan. "Nope, can't move 'em."
"Take a mouthful of water then spit it out." Paige rolled a shoulder while Denny choked violently. "It won't make you swim but it will wake you up a bit."
"How much further."
"Two miles. Hold on tight and try to stay awake." Paige reaffirmed his grip before pushing off into the water again. An hour and a half later Paige stumbled into shallow water and staggered up onto the sand.
"Halt! Hande Hoche!" The guttural voice came out of the darkness.
"Shut your bloody mouth." Paige couldn't have cared less which side of the lines he was on, but one thing he wasn't going to accept was being told to put his hands up, damn it all he couldn't even get them to shoulder height, let alone above his head. A torch flashed out and looked him over.
"Your name?"
"Corporal Paige, now please I've been in the water a bit to long and I don't want to freeze to death in this wind."
"Jan!" There was a minor scuffle on the sands. "How long 'til Piet comes?"
"Five minutes."
"Take these two back to the hut then." A dark figure loomed up into the torch light and grabbed Denny's limp form.
"Get that light out Jules."
"Sorry." The light was doused.
"Follow me." Paige followed blindly after the man who was carrying Denny. Ten minutes later he found himself dressed in a motley Belgian uniform with a huge mug of pale tea in his hands. Denny was sitting groggily by the small fire which heated the hut, his form swathed in blankets.
"A tender will be by in half an hour, you can catch that home if your pilot is recovered sufficiently."
"He will be." Paige finished drinking his tea and dug the notepad out of his waistband. "Can I borrow your telephone?"
"Why?"
"I have to report to Colonel Atkins of the 57th, he wanted a troop reading."
"Okay, 'phone's on the wall." This Belgian had slightly better English then the others and most of the communications went through him. It took Paige fifteen minutes to be through with Colonel Atkins, by which stage he was considering whether he should cut his legs off as the pain mounted with the returning circulation.
"'Lo Paige." Denny blinked wearily.
"'Lo Pip Squeak." Paige dropped back into his chair and gingerly started rubbing his legs.
"'Spose I am a bit of one." Denny shook his head slowly.
"Not really, I'd call you a bloody hero if you had been a fool, as it was you didn't panic." Paige gave his leg a hard jab then winced in pain, but as it was he had the feeling that the pain was receding. "How you feel Pip?"
"Bit sore, don't think I'd like to do that again until tomorrow at least." Denny turned the words over in his head, had he finally been accepted?
"Good-oh. The Belgian here says there'll be a tender past in tenish minutes we can catch back to 83."
"Sounds like a lovely idea." Denny stretched awkwardly. An hour later they were unloaded at the aerodrome, it was ten o'clock at night.
"They'll be in the Mess, I vote we face it all at once." Paige walked stiffly towards the mess door and threw it open. "Fresh from our baths stand aside for Paige and the mighty Pip Squeak."
"Dubbed is he?" Mac had been out of his chair the second the door started to open.
"Baptised more likely. Take pity on us and give us a drink." Paige grabbed Denny's arm as Denny started to flare angrily at the laughter. "Cool it Pip, mostly relief that we're alive."
"How far this time?" Gareshott was rocking back on two legs.
"Dunno." Paige shrugged. "Now if you'll excuse me." Paige gulped down the rest of the tea he had been handed and burnt his mouth. "I'm going to sleep until next Sunday."
"Sleep well." There had been a general chorus of response, and after a minute Denny had followed Paige back to the barracks, he had to admit that sleep sounded like a good idea.
"You'll do kid, but watch your step, they'll stamp on you if you get too big for your boots."
"Thanks." Denny collapsed onto his bed still in the motley Belgian uniform and almost immediately fell asleep.
There were now a couple of different features to consider, the first being that he was in a Fee as opposed to a B.E. which meant that he was in the rear cockpit instead of the front cockpit, the second was that his 'plane was on fire, and the third was that there wasn't anyone to drag him out of the 'plane, and thirdly it was a forest he was jumping into as opposed to water. If one cared to consider the survival possibilities they were nil...if not negative, but one gave up considering survival possibilities within a week or so of arriving on the front. You did something, and if you survived you allowed yourself to consider the odds you had defeated. Denny was out of his harness in a matter of seconds and half out of his cockpit, the aft of the plane was a fiery inferno and Denny could see his smoky path stretching up into the sky where the Albatrii still weaved. He paused for a split second to grab the camera then jumped, jumped into a brilliant flash of pain and utter darkness.
"Keep still!" The words, spoken in clear English but delivered in a sharp undertone, were the first things Denny consciously became aware of, the next was that of a hand strategically placed between his shoulder blades, even if he had felt like moving a sense of self preservation would have prevented him. Denny made a feeble attempt to get his eyes open, but soon he decided it was a useless occupation, his head was pounding in a very uncomfortable way and he was suffering from a general feeling of illness, everything ached, with the exception of his left leg, but that was completely numb. Slowly the pounding in his head died away, but still the hand kept him pinned to the ground, Denny had no idea how long the hand held him pinned before it was suddenly removed. "I think it's clear, stay here 'til I return." When Denny finally managed to persuade his eyes to co-operate in the business of opening and focussing, he found himself inside a hedge and totally alone. It took himself a good ten minutes to decide that apart from his leg he was only suffering from extensive bruises and perhaps a cracked rib, pretty light injuries all things considered. "Move it!" The voice called from outside the hedge.
"But my leg." Denny could still feel little to nothing in his leg, but as little as he knew of anatomy he knew that legs were not meant to bend on that angle or even at that point.
"You'll be a cripple or dead no matter which way you look at it." Was the callous response. "Now move it, unless you want to wait for the dogs."
"Dogs?" Denny had heard enough stories of those dogs to know that he didn't want to meet one, but Denny's enquiry received no answer. With a clenched jaw and a decidedly unsettled feeling around his midriff Denny scrambled out of his refuge and came unsteadily to one of his feet. As the darkness closed in on him again he felt a strong hand grab him and then he knew only darkness.
"...'t Zal nogal moeilijk worden." It was a feminine voice which Denny's ears registered next. ...going to be somewhat difficult. "Er kan niets gebeuren zolang ze niet ontruimen, en dat kan nog zeker een week duren." Nothing can happen until they clear again, and that will be at least a week
"Hij is van 83, ik heb orders gekregen om hem te vermoorden liever dan dat hij in Duitse handen terechtkomt. Ik zal de resten van die camera binnenkort naar huis terugsturen." The tone of the voice made Denny shiver, and he had the feeling that he was glad he did not understand a word of what was being said. He's from 83, I received orders to kill him sooner than let the Germans get hold of him. I'll send the remains of that camera back home soon. Then suddenly Denny recognised the voice, it was the voice which he had heard just after his crash.
"Gij had toch gezegd dat niemand kan vermoeden dat hij nog leeft, waarom waren de honden los?" You said no one should suspect he was alive, why were the dogs out?
"De ontsnapping een paar weken geleden, ze denken dat de gevangene deze richting uitkomt met de linies als doel." The escape a few weeks back, they seem to believe that the prisoner is headed in this direction and making for the lines.
"Misschien komt alles toch nog goed." The voice had a very wary note in it, but Denny still didn't know what was being discussed. Maybe things will be alright. "Ge zijt nen dommerik, Jules, hij is blijkbaar wakker geworden." You are a big fool Jules, he seems to have waken.
"Da's nu eenmaal mijn reputatie, en soms vind ik zelf ook dat het klopt. Nu, als ge mij eventjes wilt excuseren, mevrouw, I ga onze vriend nu wat verzorgen vooraleer hem naar de hooizolder te brengen." Denny's eyes finally co-operated and opened just in time to see a woman head towards the door. Such is my reputation, and sometimes I agree with it. Now if you'll excuse me madam I will doctor our friend before delivering him to the hayloft. It was a soft cough which stopped the woman. "'k Zou mij excuseren moest het zin hebben." The woman nodded, then left the room, closing the door firmly behind herself. I'd appologize if it were any use.
"Where am I?" Denny managed to croak out the question as he watched the remaining person. The man had picked up a large knife from a nearby bench top and was now approaching Denny while he tested the blade cautiously.
"Belgium." The response was fairly curt and more than answered the question as to whether he possessed the voice that Denny remembered from the hedge. The man gave a nod of satisfaction with the sharpness of the blade, then let out a soft chuckle, for Denny had closed his eyes in a feeling of sick anticipation. "Relax laddie, I'm not in the habit of killing people with knives like this. You happen to have a leg that is most certainly on the wrong angle and I don't think you want me to try and take your trousers off with it in its current condition. Denny watched in slightly horrified fascination as his bloodstained trouser leg was cut up both seams.
"Where in Belgium am I?"
"That's one thing I'm afraid I am not going to tell you."
"Oh." Denny fell silent and continued to watch with a sick feeling as his leg was freed.
"This, my friend, is quite a mess." Chris stared down at the leg and took a firm grip on his lower lip. "Marguerite!" The woman reappeared on his call and also took a look at his leg.
"'t Zal verkort worden, de breuk is te erg." She stepped away and frowned. It will be shortened, too bad a break. "We hebben twee platte planken nodig, ik zal dat laken wel verscheuren." She turned and left the room, leaving Denny to look up at the man. We need two straight boards, I'll get that sheet torn up.
"Who are you?"
"Chris." The response was curt while the man busied himself over by the fireplace.
"Sorry." Denny stared up at the ceiling trying to count the cracks in the whitewashing.
"You'll truly be so in a minute, I've dealt with fractures on occasion, but I'm afraid you're going to have to suffer with no protection from the pain besides your own personal defenses." Chris carefully laid a board up next to Denny's leg. "Maybe it will teach you that humans were not made to fly."
"I doubt it." Denny watched as chips flew under the confident axe strokes, at great speed the two rough planks were becoming relatively smooth. Marguerite soon returned with an armload of dirty whiteness which she laid down on a nearby table.
"IK doe alleen maar het noodzakelijke, het risico op ontsteking is te groot." Only doing a basic job, too great a risk of gangrene.
"Is it bad?" Denny watched the extensive preparations with an alarmed eye.
"Pretty frightful actually. At a guess I'd say you have a Potts Fracture down here." Chris indicated the point just above Denny's ankle. "Then you've managed to break the tibia a second time up here, and that break has come through the skin." Chris was busy passing a rope around under Denny's armpits before tying them up around the thick post that was just behind Denny's head. "I'd amputate the entire lot except that would make you even more likely to pop off on us." Chris tested the rope by giving a powerful pull. "Now you are presently going to let loose a mighty shriek and pass out, so it you'll excuse me, I'm going to gag you before we proceed." Chris rapidly gagged Denny, then cast a final nervous glance around. Except for the fact that the farm was so far from anywhere he would have never even considered trying to set the leg, in fact he wouldn't have even tried to save the airman he had seen suicidal jump from his burning aeroplane and crash into the treetops. The fact that the man had even returned to the conscious world had rather amazed Chris, and it more then retrieved his belief in the endurability of the human frame.
"Klaar?" Marguerite was standing at the foot of the board. Ready?
"Allez, doe maar." With a sigh Chris focussed on the task at hand. Go for it. As predicted Denny had let out a mighty shriek, only partially muffled by the gag, and passed out as soon as Marguerite applied the tension. Chris went swiftly to work with firm and experienced moves and within ten minutes he was tying the two boards to Denny's leg in a very makeshift splint. Having satisfied himself that the manipulations appeared to be holding it was Jules who stepped back from the table with an inane giggle. "'k Zal hem naar boven brengen." I'll get him upstairs.
Marguerite watched silently as Jules left the room, bowed down by his burden. They both knew the incredible risk he had taken in bringing the man back at all, but Marguerite had a singular dislike for anyone getting killed. Their recent antics at the prison camp had resulted in two of their own dead and a guard dead, but they had successfully retrieved the people they needed, it had been difficult not to try and rescue the others as well, it was the first time that they had operated on a planned rescue, everything else had just been fortunate finds walking around the countryside. The sun was setting in a golden haze and Marguerite could hear the big guns on the Western Front beating out their regular tattoo of noise, a senseless destruction of human life. Here she was, a woman, on the wrong side of the muddy strip that was called no-man's-land, with a crashed airman and a British agent in her house. If she was found she would be executed as a spy, Marguerite never tried to fool herself, she took every day as it came and thanked the dear lord that she and the occupants of her house were undetected, she thanked God that there was at least one thing she could do to aid the allied cause. Jules' inane giggle grated on her as he went out to get the cows in for the evening milking, it was not the first time that Marguerite cursed the fact that any able bodied man was recruited into the German Armed Forces, what she wouldn't have given to be able to hold a reasonable conversation with this Brit who spoke her own dialect almost better than she did, but by the looks of those photographs which came from the camera Jules was about to take another walk...Leonie was due to pass through again in a week, should be possible to get the airman off with her, then his return to England was almost guaranteed. Marguerite had the feeling that a 'relative' of hers would need to receive a visit from her in the next month, which meant she had better start filing for movement papers, she would not be thanked by anyone if she tried to follow Jules' habits because she was not a half-wit and never tried to appear as one. Marguerite cast one last look around before walking to the cow byres where Jules was chattering inanely to the cows while he milked them...they had a bit of planning to do so they could get this man safely away.
Dear Grandfather,
The snow is lying heavily on the ground here and it is actually on the cold side so please excuse how this pen sputters and blotches. The ink is barely defrosted and I am wearing a heavy pair of military issue gloves.I am in good health right now. I had a spell in a forward dressing station last month, and I don't think I like it up there, everything is just a bit to close and hurried there.
We are currently housed in the top of the hospital, over the wards, but as soon as Spring sets in we'll probably be put out in tents again. I have to agree with the tent housing, even though I'm not particularly fond of it, we have a very hard time containing infections and disease during the Spring and the Autumn, so we are housed as much as possible out in the open air and go running a couple of times a week.
Your box was most welcome here and life has been much of a gala since it arrived. The donations supplied us with a more reliable stove and permitted some repairs to be made to the roof. The blankets were a godsend, it actually makes the wards colourful and almost a pleasure to be in. We only had black-brown blankets before and that combined with the fact that it is a hospital made the wards rather an unpleasant place to be, all dim and dark. The night watch was the worst time to be there, but now the wards look like escaped rainbows, you actually sent more blankets then personnel here so we have used others as curtains in the windows. The other gifts were also much enjoyed, our Christmas was in fact quite merry even though we lost five patients.
I had a letter from Brian yesterday, he has transferred to the 36th Ulster Division and seems happy to be back among his own people. He's still a Lieutenant and seems thoroughly contented their, though I feel scared at the amount of fighting he sees, it cannot be within the odds of survival for him to continue living long. From what he says the division came out in October of last year and he expects he won't see anymore real action until sometime around June when the main Spring Offensive begins. 'Moseying around the boring bits so the regulars can sleep in a bit longer' is what he refers to it as.
Kitty has grown quite large now and chases anything and everything, but the increase in size does little to ensure that she is not trodden on or hit by the passing vehicles.
Oh dear, the head sister is calling, I will continue this later if I can.
Love Nelli.
I think it is now three days later, but I cannot be sure, this is not to say that we have been so frantically busy that I lost count of the days, it is merely that I forgot to date the previous part and I have forgotten when I actually started it.
The next hospital was closed last week after it was nearly bombed so we have been totally flooded with patients, but we have hopes that our overload of both patients and staff will soon reduce as they have nearly completed erecting the new hospital at its new site.
I have been requested by the men in my ward to thank you for the blankets and the other 'little things', nothing like the knowledge that they are appreciated to make them cheer up, and nothing like being cheered up to help them recover.
We continue to have maintenance problems here, money is always a shortage here. It the roof leaks any more we are going to have to cover it with Tarpaulins just to keep the moisture level down to a safe level, we lack sufficient containers to catch all the drips when it rains and the floor is steadily rotting away.
There is currently a ghost story making the rounds, apparently some Canadian Cavalry officer saw what he claimed to be a headless woman over at the deserted Chateau in this region. They use the Chateaux and large houses which aren't hospitals to house the troops from the front. Anyway apparently he had gone for a walk around midnight because he needed a drink and he suddenly found himself in a part of the house he did not recognise, and could not find the next morning, and then suddenly this figure came rushing at him. No one has seen his ghost since, but there have been no shortage of search parties. Susan, one of my fellow sisters, is of the opinion that the ghost only visits the unexpecting. I'm not so sure though, I think it more likely that it was just a bad dream, but each to their own opinion, I must admit that Sister Gawley and I do not rate as good friends, she is too tactful and meandering when it comes to talking to people, she'll spend five minutes telling you what could be said in three or four words.
It's been relatively quiet lately, but we expect the casualty rate to increase as the snow melts, so there may become longer gaps between my letters as there will be less time to write them.
Could you please send me another photograph of you? My last one was ruined in a recent rainstorm and I do miss my grandfather, could you also send one of Brian if you have one? I don't feel it quite appropriate to ask him for a photograph when he is fighting a war. Seems strange to think that only two years ago I was dancing and flirting and being foolish, that Brian was frequently scolding me and that all was peaceful and happy. It feels as if we have been at war for ever, that I have never done anything but nurse, it feels like I have been here all my life in these chilly hospital wards, knitting socks and scarves, bandaging and stitching, carrying food trays and running messages from one end of the hospital to the other and driving messages from one hospital to the next.
I learnt to drive last week, it's all in preparation for the expected offensives in the next couple of months, for a wonder we actually have more ambulances than drivers, up until December we actually had twice as many drivers as we had ambulances, but now the pattern has reversed and all personnel are required to learn how to drive an ambulance. I've been assigned to a small green van called Bessie and it is actually fun to go driving, though I still get the jitters whenever we go near the front, it is so noisy there.
Oh well, it is almost time for me to be back on shift so I will duly sign off.
My love to you and all the friends at home.
Nelli.
Author's Note: Okay, got to admit it, there are bits of this borrowed from John Buchan's 'Greenmantle', a smashing good book in my opinion and as a result I borrowed just a little bit from it. But only the roof top antics and how they cross no-man's-land :)
There are many types of doors in the world, some look and are flimsy, some look flimsy and aren't, some look strong and aren't, and then there are the variety that look and are strong. The door that Darcy was glowering at most unkindly was of the latter model, a heavy affair with iron studs and bands binding it together. There are also a wide variety of prison doors which vary from the mud and stick affairs in South Africa to the heavy metal doors installed in certain high security prisons. The same door that Darcy was glowering at was a prison door in the upper end of that scale and without the aid of some pretty tough explosive Darcy doubted that he could get out. Admittedly he had once blown his way out of a prison but on that occasion there was the added factor that he actually had some gelignite on hand. Now he was actually bound and lying on the bare floor and though he had no light Darcy was pretty sure that there was nothing else in the room. It was, in Darcy's opinion, a fitting ending to a thoroughly foul six months...unfortunately it looked like it would also be the end of his life, a point he regretted since he had not seen Georgiana since the beginning of the war. He had started the six months by getting blown to hell and back at Loos, at the price of one Lieutenant and nearly lost a second one. He had then been hauled in by Parker and sent to Meryton, well honestly Darcy had to admit that he had been given a choice. Going to Meryton was nearly a mistake in Darcy's opinion, admittedly he had managed to complete the reason he went there for, but he had also manage to make a very large number of people dislike him. Having departed Meryton with great abruptness when the police became interested in him again Darcy then proceeded to tour half of the midlands in his attempts to lose the police before finally sending a most unpatriotic letter to the Times under the guise of David Seymour. Within a week of that letter he had been politely escorted from the country by Scotland Yard, who were in fact still looking for Mr. Darcy to question him concerning the death of Lieutenant Peter Fitzwilliam. Having jumped boat at Lisbon Darcy bribed a friend from South African days to sign him on as having joined the boat at Delagoa Bay. It was then a simple matter of going underground for a few days until his beard had grown to a suitable length that he could hack it around a bit. It was a shaggy tramp with execrable English who got a job on a tramp steamer headed for the Aegean Sea. From that point on Darcy had absolutely no luck and carefully laid plans came undone. It had all begun with a British Submarine, an item which gave Darcy some ironic amusement, here was he, a Lieutenant-Colonel in the British Armed forces and he had his tramp steamer sunk...along with its cargo of sixteen inch shells for Turkey. It had taken Darcy nearly a week to lose his companions from the steamer and then he had made his best speed for Constantinople.
It was not the first time that Darcy had felt the need to express his thanks to the gods that he had spent so many years in the company of Nash, the man's upbringing might have been deplorable, his manners were definitely worse, but there was absolutely no doubt that when it came to the illegal he had no equal. Darcy had landed in Turkey with not a penny in his pocket and not a word of Turkish, but within a fortnight he was idling around Constantinople still without a penny and still without knowing a word of the language. It had taken Darcy precisely two days to realize that Constantinople was not the place he wanted to be and after that he had just moved around without attempting to keep a finger on where he was. As a result he became very quickly, very lost, and then to top the whole foul matter off he had met up with an old acquaintance. Georg, Graf von Nickel would never have counted David Seymour as one of his friends from the German South-West, in fact if Georg was given his own choice he would have had that same Seymour shot five years earlier, unfortunately he had been unable to lay his hands on the man so Seymour had returned to English territory and relative safety. As a result Georg's joy could hardly be expressed when he realized that the lone figure stumping along the edge of the highway was the same Seymour who had thwarted him some five years earlier. The reunion would have easily been mistaken for a joyful one had it not ended with Darcy having the butt end of a revolver applied firmly to his skull. As a result of all that Darcy was now lying tied up in a Turkish prison with an aching skull and addressing far from complimentary remarks to the very solid and strong looking door in every language he knew, and even translating from one language to another to suitably expand his supply. If there was any distinct down note Darcy was aware of, it was the fact that he had not seen Georgiana since the summer of '14 and he hardly called that seeing a person. It had certainly not included a farewell to her so he would just vanish into the mists, no one actually sure of what became of him except perhaps for a couple of people. Darcy gave a rueful smile, it must be becoming a family tradition, he was now going to be the second Darcy he knew who would just vanish into the mists of time.
Darcy made another impolite observation to the defenseless door in English and was totally stunned when a voice cheerfully responded in the same language. Darcy was damn sure that it wasn't the door which had spoken.
"Who the devil are you?"
"Bad question to ask prisoner. We're escaped prisoners so stand by as we're about to make you escaped too." It was a different voice which responded. This voice had a laughing note and a few seconds later the door flew open in response to the vigorous application of someone's shoulders. Darcy stared in amazement as two Australian Soldiers and a slender Turk were catapulted into the room.
"What the..." Darcy got no further before a hand was clamped over his mouth.
"Watch the door Griz." The order was given softly and Darcy watched as the larger Australian soldier shambled over to the door, the shorter of the two then came and joined the Turk who had his hand over Darcy's mouth. "Let him breathe Khalid, I'm sure he's not going to speak again." The hand was removed and in a remarkably short space of time Darcy found himself freed and on his feet. "Let's get out of here." The shorter of the two Australians was clearly the leader of the group even though the slim Turk did the guiding. Darcy followed him out of the room while 'Griz' brought up the rear. Darcy had absolutely no idea where he was, hadn't had an idea since he had left Constantinople, and their escape did little to re-orientate him. As they cleared the building the breath of fresh air was more than welcome to Darcy, but the respite was brief and soon they were scrambling up and down walls. After some five minutes of this seemingly pointless exercise they came to a halt and the Turk vanished into the darkness.
"Good lord! It's the Major!" A torch had flickered briefly on Darcy's face. Darcy couldn't resist an instinctive duck backward at the clear recognition. "What are you doing here sir?"
"I'm being shot for spying five years ago in the German South-West." Darcy started rubbing his leg distractedly, the leg itself had gone completely numb before they had cleared the gaol and in the recent climbing it had shown a tendency towards unreliability, Darcy was hoping it wouldn't give out before they reached some sanctuary.
"That's daft." was the enlightening response he got and Darcy couldn't shake off the familiarity of the voice.
"Where are we?"
"Exact location is rather uncertain as I don't read or speak anything but English and a little bit of Latin and Greek, but we are somewhere in the town of Erzurum which is near the Russo-Turkish frontier, been lead to believe that Nebudchadnezzar or someone with a name like that once grazed here. The Russians are throwing a large amount of metal around not to many miles from here, you can hear them if you listen."
"Khalid said five miles to the front." It was the first time that Darcy head heard the man Griz speak and now he definitely confirmed that Griz had been the one to respond to the observation he had made to the door, he had a voice which sounded like it came from his boots.
"I thought I heard guns, no wonder Nickel was unhappy about where I was. Who are you?" Darcy looked curiously at the two shadowy figures he had been given a brief view of the faces when the torch had flickered across and though one face seemed familiar he could place a name to neither person.
"Well that is Private Johnathon 'Griz' Behr to be found in the mountain to your right, and I am Captain Lord James Ashington-Frankston at your service."
"Ashie?" Darcy stared doubtfully at the shadowy figure.
"At your service as always Major, complete with bells and whistles."
"It's Ashie alright." Darcy no longer had any doubts, only Ashie ever spoke like that, with a soft growl he dug a finger into his knee.
"Something wrong with the leg Major?"
"Got shot up five or so months ago."
"That must have been fun, how are the others?"
"Well Miles and Carrigan were both alive and intact from what I last heard, and still exchanging defense and abuse, Bing stopped a load of shell with his shoulder and only got his recall in late December early January." Darcy jabbed at his leg again.
"Bennie?" There was a curious softness in Ashie's voice and Darcy looked at him sharply.
"He went west."
"Lucky Bennie." There was no laughter at all in Ashie's voice. "Did he suffer at all?"
"Miles reports that his death has to have been instantaneous. Wasn't enough of him left to bury apparently, he saved both mine and Bing's lives." There was a sharp hiss in response and Ashie fell silent.
"Ashie, if you don't mind me askin'. 'Oo is this lair?" Griz had been listening with a frown to the exchange between Ashie and this stranger, he didn't like people who just appeared and seemed to be familiar with Ashie.
"Not a lair by the stretch of the wildest imagination Griz. Let me introduce Major Darcy, or at any rate he was a Major when I knew him. Why no uniform Major?"
"Rather a long story." Darcy tried to shrug the matter aside.
"Meaning we won't get it out of you with Dynamite. Well Griz and I have a mighty short tale. We got nabbed in a recent Senussi raid somewhere on the north African coast...well maybe not so recent the raid occurred about a month ago. For some reason they didn't slit our throats and we were handed over to the Turks. Since then we've been put into, and escaped from, a large number of gaols. Why the Turks haven't slit our throats is one thing we are quite curious about. None to easy to stay free when you don't speak the language and wear a strange uniform."
"Sounds like your luck has not changed at all. I got torpedoed somewhere in the Aegean and after a bit of fun and games on the far from stunning railroad system here I have managed to get to here. Where I came across an 'old acquaintance' who was more then willing to hit me."
"Sounds like there's more to be told, but knowing you, you probably risk court-martialling if you go blabbing about it." Ashie was about to add something else when Khalid suddenly came back.
"Got to go." Darcy only just caught the remark Khalid whispered to Ashie.
"Wilco." They moved off immediately. The wind came as a shock to Darcy as they came out from behind their protective chimney stack. It was some five minutes later when Khalid came to a sudden and abrupt halt, his head tilted. Darcy listened in vain for a moment, then he too heard what the halt was about, from behind them there was an absolute uproar coming from the prison.
"It appears that our friend is hot property." Khalid frowned at Darcy. "Be quiet everyone." Khalid then led the way forward again, past a row of windows. There was a sudden pause, and for no reason that Darcy could later explain he looked into one of the windows he was standing next to. What he saw made him almost fall over, for Graf von Nickel was frowning over some folder. While Darcy watched Nickel suddenly stood up and grabbed his coat before marching out of the room. Without hesitating Darcy opened the windows and slid into the room. Without even looking at the contents of the folder Darcy grabbed it in its entirety and escaped out the window again.
"There you are Major." It was Ashie's hushed whisper that caused Darcy to realize that he had caught up with the group.
"Where were you?" Khalid had a dark frown on his face.
"Raiding Nickel's private office." Darcy rubbed his leg again as it gave some spirited protest.
"Ashie, you know the route, get moving." Khalid seemed to vanish as he uttered these words and Ashie immediately started forward in a crouched walk.
"Ashie..." Darcy fell silent in response to the hand wave, fifteen minutes had passed and Darcy had waves of pain rolling up from his leg, he wasn't too sure how much longer he'd be able to keep moving for. Darcy got about two more steps when he suddenly tripped and fell. It didn't take Ashie's instantaneous stiffening to warn him that he couldn't have chosen a worse time to trip, as Ashie had frozen Darcy didn't bother attempting to get back to his feet.
"Ashie." Griz's soft whisper was also silenced by a handwave, and with a mental moan Darcy buried his face into the snow.
"Blast it all." They were the next words Darcy heard, and though he tried to see where everyone was, he couldn't seem to penetrate the darkness.
"Give him another whiff, if he doesn't come round I'll have to call in a friend."
"Must have been what he was trying to tell me when I silenced him."
"Don't think about it." The advice came with a burning and stinging sensation. Darcy moved his head, trying to get it out of the burning sensation.
"Looks a bit more like it." It was Ashie's voice which was commenting now.
"Watch him, if he starts to drift again give him another whiff. I'll be back with food later." There was a rustle from somewhere to his left and then there was the bang of a light wooden door.
"Okay Griz, dig out the tucker, never know the smell of it might make the Major a bit more active." There was now a rustle to Darcy's right and the bang of tin.
"Is it dark in here?" Darcy was somewhat surprised when he actually heard himself ask the question, he had decided only a few seconds previously that his vocal chords must have thrown the pail in and given up working.
"Nope, not that it's brilliantly lit, but there is a light in here."
"Interesting."
"You just keep talking Major, won't do to have you going out like that again."
"I doubt it would help if I were to appologise so I won't."
"You're probably right there Major." There was another scuffle. "Get yer mits out of it Griz, that's mine."
"Eat it faster then." The response was muffled.
"Some of us are not pigs with our food." Darcy tried a cautious blink and was rewarded with a brief flash of light.
"Okay, I'll agree, there is a light in here."
"Told you there was Major. Now try and get a more permanent focus on it as I have no idea when we are going to have to evacuate this particular hide-away and I doubt Griz here will be willing to carry you again. He had some pretty rude remarks to make while getting you here."
"I would have much preferred walking here." Darcy paused and creased his brows. "Is there any way I could get a glass of hot water?"
"We could get you some warm water, but it will take a good twenty minutes."
"That'll probably do, but excuse me if I fall silent for I am going to become progressively more bad tempered."
"How surprising." Ashie bent over the small lamp which lit the room, then settled back in his corner. "Food Major?"
"No thank you." Darcy settled back himself, then sat up again and pulled the bulky folder from under his coat.
"What's that?" Griz frowned at the large buff coloured folder.
"Haven't the faintest idea, but I'm just about to find out." Darcy flipped it open and scanned swiftly through the contents, then emitted a soft whistle and began inspecting it closely.
"What's up Major? You look like you've been handed the Crown Jewels."
"Feels like I've been handed the Crown Jewels, now shut up while I inspect this." Darcy frowned over the small scribbled remarks that were scattered throughout the main map, then gave a slightly louder whistle. "Ashie, whether you like it or not, and I suppose whether you come with me or not, I'm departing within the next couple of days and I intend to cross no-man's-land and have a little conversation with a few Russians."
"How do you intend to do that?" Ashie suddenly sat upright and stared at Darcy.
"I'll decide that when I get there, but for now I had better continue studying what I have here." Darcy turned back to the map. As he had observed, to have it in his lap made him feel like he had been handed the Crown Jewels. One hundred percent up-to-date, and it was a staff map for the Caucasian Battlefront. Darcy resumed his work attempting to translate all the comments, one thing he quickly discovered was that the German of South Africa and the German South-West was not the same as the German of Germany, and on top of that he had never had more then a fairly tenuous grip on the language. But language barriers ignored, it didn't take much intelligence to realize that the points marked in red were considered the danger points of the front, and it didn't take Darcy long to realize that the front on the whole was well fortified, except for a single hill which was nearly unfortified, but at the same time only an insane commander would attempt to take such a place unless he had inside information.
"Your water Major." Ashie handed Darcy the tin can full of medium warm water. Darcy dipped a cautious finger into it, then hastily dug into his pocket, the water nearly wasn't warm enough to dissolve the morphia into. It took a few seconds to cut off the dose and Darcy quickly drank it off, ignoring the bite of the stale water and the bitter aftertaste of the morphia. Darcy handed the can back to Ashie before digging around at his ankles. It took him nearly a minute of intense concentration to free the ends of his leg brace from where he had stored them in the outer lining of both trouser legs, another three minutes saw him tightening the leather straps and testing the grip of it. Darcy settled back with a sigh only to see Ashie staring at him intently.
"Something up Ashie?" Darcy shook his head gently as the morphia started to fog his mind.
"Just noting your activities with surprise Major, seems a good thing that Griz didn't throw those away as he was very tempted to. It also seems that you weren't joking when you claimed to get smashed up at Loos."
"Did you think I was?" Darcy stared in surprise at Ashie.
"Please Major, if you have any liking for my poor defenseless hide, DON'T look at me like that, it gives me a most frightful feeling of having forgotten something important."
"Look like what?" Darcy was, if anything, even more bewildered then before.
"Quite so surprised, it gives me the nasty feeling that I have probably forgotten to do something important. Don't you agree with me Griz?"
"Well he does get a most curious 'spression on his mug when 'e be stunned." Griz had tilted his head thoughtfully to one side.
"One of his favourite expressions when I knew him, he always seemed to look at me like that."
"Well, maybe you deserved it like?" Griz blinked.
"I disagree with that, I most certainly did not deserve to be looked at in surprise."
"Well maybe it ain't a s'prised look then, mebbe it's for something else."
"Well I'm worried if it isn't a s'prised look, 'cause then I don't know anything about him."
"Are you in the habit of discussing people while they sit and listen?" Darcy had been listening in amazement.
"Well it's kindament an acquired habit." Ashie frowned thoughtfully.
"I think we discussed 'is mug when 'e first came to the Light 'Orse." Griz creased his brows in a perplexed frown.
"That and my pommy accent as you so kindly called it. Now Major if you'll 'scuse me, but I kinda need a bit of sleep."
"Go for it, I'm not sleeping for an hour or so yet and I certainly do not insist on being given company."
"I'll take you at your word." Ashie curled up in a corner and was soon asleep leaving Griz to study the immense form of Darcy, and Darcy to study the maps he had pilfered from Nickel's study. Nickel...Darcy frowned up at the ceiling, that word was ringing another bell, but he couldn't think which particular bell it was ringing, the thought was there, but he could not catch it. Two hours later Darcy finally returned the folder to his pockets and leant back in a slight but uncomfortable doze, he woke again nearly an hour later when someone came into their room.
"Looks like Ashie was successful in waking you up fully my friend." Khalid knelt down and carefully unloaded a large number of packages and parcels.
"I surfaced just as you departed and came too fully not many minutes later." Darcy considered the slim form, was the man to be trusted?
"Well you gave us a fair bit of trouble by passing out in that manner."
"A smashed leg and several hours of lying around tied up do not lead to instantaneous mobility and fitness." Darcy rubbed his head tiredly and blinked. "Can you get at least one person safely across to the Russian Lines?"
"My friend, I may be able to do many things, but crossing no-man's-land is not among them."
"Many things you can do?" Darcy lifted a curious eyebrow.
"Lieutenant-Colonel Darcy?"
"Well I've certainly been lead to believe that this is what I'm called by many."
"I met your friend Lord Parker Dellingham about two or three weeks ago, when he heard I was coming out here he asked me to keep an eye open and say hello to you if I saw you."
"Then who are you?" Darcy scrutinised the face again.
"Never fear my friend, you will not recognise me for we have never met before." Khalid gave a faint smile as he busied himself among the packages. "But you may have heard of me from your man Nash. I am known as 'The Count'." The Count met the sharp scrutiny calmly for a minute then resumed his organization of the packages.
"Andrea?" Darcy asked the question doubtfully.
"He was one of my men."
"What's your German like?"
"As good as my English." The response was calm.
"Well mine isn't good at all." Darcy relapsed into silence, he had had second thoughts about introducing the staff map to the discussion.
"That is not why you asked that question, but I'll let it go." The Count frowned down at the parcels for a minute. "Did you actually get Nickel's folder?"
"Nickel's folder?"
"You dropped behind us for a while then caught up and admitted that you had been raiding Nickel's private office. I've just returned from a discreet raid on some kitchens and the place is fairly bubbling with the news that some important maps went missing."
"Well maybe you can make more sense of it then I can. I've got a rough idea of what it's on about, but I'm not sure." Darcy dug the folder out of his pocket and handed it across to the Count. The Count flicked it open and studied the contents fairly quickly, but Darcy had the feeling that he was reading every word and committing most of it to memory.
"No wonder they've got the wind up." The Count rubbed an eyebrow thoughtfully then handed the folder back to Darcy. "That folder would be an absolute goldmine for the Russian High Command."
"That's why I was asking whether you could get me across the lines."
"Well I was actually intending to pack all three of you out of here as soon as possible by running you down through Syria, but in light of this, I think it would be better to risk one or two of you dying to get that folder through the lines."
"You don't know any other way?" Darcy looked curiously at the Count.
"Not really, No-man's-land is not precisely designed for make crossing easy."
"Quite a few fliers manage it."
"About one in twenty or so of the fliers who attempt it actually get back alive, you just don't hear from those who don't make." Was the calm response.
"Do you have any way that they could receive it without crossing the lines?"
"Not inside of a month, our routes either spell a lot of risk or take quite a while."
"What's this about?" Ashie's voice suddenly interjected, causing both men to start.
"Just consulting how to get this folder to the Russians."
"Important?"
"Up to date staff map."
"Then I suppose we'll just have to make a run for it." Ashie rummaged through the parcels the Count had brought with him and soon settled back chewing contently on a large roll of fairly stale bread.
Darcy went out the trapdoor in the roof first, followed by the Count, while Ashie and Griz brought up the rear. Ten minutes of rooftop scrambling had them nearing the edges of the town, when Darcy suddenly dove hard to his right. The others promptly dropped prone while Darcy cautiously investigated ahead.
"What is it?" Ashie pushed up on his elbows as Darcy came back.
"Patrol or something, we're not going to get through there." Darcy rubbed his forehead and glanced out across the snowy roofs.
"Know why they're there?"
"I think they're waiting for me." Darcy hunched a shoulder. "It's certainly not a drifting patrol."
"Is there any other way out of here?" Ashie turned to the Count.
"Not unless we go out the other end of town and there will be another patrol there I expect." The Count was fiddling at his belt. "How many of them Darcy?"
"Five or so of them." Darcy creased his brows slightly.
"Right, the three of you get ready to jump and run like hell."
"I can't run...or at least not much faster than a walk." Darcy's expression was blank as he delivered the information.
"Do it anyway, you might be startled how fast you can move if your life depends on it." The Count slid away into the dim light as he spoke.
"There he is wrong." Darcy had his trousers leg up in a flash and was yanking at the stiff buckles on his brace. Ashie almost immediately joined in yanking.
"Keep your eyes peeled Griz, I don't know what Khalid plans, but it will probably work."
"I'm a-watching Ashie."
"Just pitch it." Darcy finally got the last buckle undone and yanked the brace off.
"Don't Major, you might want it later when you don't need to run."
"What ever." Darcy looked doubtfully at the two long rods, but as he looked there was a dull explosion.
"I think that means run." Ashie was on his feet and diving across the bare expanse and into the ditches on the far side. Griz followed him almost immediately with Darcy close behind. A revolver spat as Darcy dove into the ditch.
"Keep your heads down." Darcy snapped the order as he struggled out of the deep snow into which he had fallen.
"Hurt Major?"
"No, but they sure saw me." Darcy yanked out his revolver and scrambled back to the edge of the ditch, only to find himself face to face with a startled Turkish soldier. Another revolver shot sounded and Darcy came tumbling back into the ditch. "Move it, they're already searching the ditch, the fellow I got came from behind us."
"Then we'll get moving this way." Ashie promptly headed off as he spoke.
"Move it." With a curt gesture Darcy sent Griz ahead of him before bringing up the rear.
"No way in smoke we're going to get out of this at this rate." Ashie had come to an abrupt halt.
"What's up?" Darcy paused, but then he realised the question was useless, he could already hear the voices coming from in front of him.
"We're surrounded unless we leave the ditch, and that is one thing we can't do."
"There's only one..." Darcy got no further as there was a sudden scuffle from beside him and jerking his head around he was just in time to see Griz's last foot leaving the ditch. "What the..." Darcy fell silent, he could already hear the yells as Griz was seen. A quick scramble took him to the top of the ditch where he got a view which stunned him. Darcy could claim with a lot of truth that he had seen some fast running in his day, but nothing had prepared him for the speed at which Griz was traversing through the snow. The Turkish soldiers were streaming after him, bullets kicking up the snow around the man's feet.
"Darcy, give me that revolver."
"Why?" Darcy turned for a split second to stare at Ashie.
"Those devils are only attempting to cripple Griz and I'll be damned if he is taken a prisoner. I've seen enough of their prisons to know I'd sooner kill him myself then leave him for them to practice on."
"Sorry." Darcy promptly handed over his revolver, there had been definite meaning in Ashie's voice, but as Ashie took it there was suddenly a dull chatter of a machinegun and the two men dove back into the ditch, only to scramble straight back up, they would not have still been alive had that gun been aimed near them. The carnage which met their eyes sent them back into the ditch again, for not only had the shooter got Griz, he had also got half of the Turkish soldiers.
"Either someone doesn't like Turkish Soldiers or he wanted to be certain of getting Griz." Ashie's expression was tight. "Here Major, keep a hold on it and we had better get moving." Ashie handed the revolver back before heading up the ditch again. Darcy shoved his revolver back into his holster before following Ashie, his eyes open for any danger. After an hour they exited the ditch with the aid of a handy clump of bushes.
"Ashie." Darcy waited until Ashie stopped. "I need to rest." Darcy actually didn't need to rest, though a rest wouldn't hurt him, but he didn't actually think much of the blind and reckless manner in which Ashie was travelling.
"Sorry sir, I had forgotten." Ashie subsided into the snow.
"Thought I might find you here." The voice spoke five minutes later and had Darcy spinning with his revolver out. "Put that away." The Count came out of the shadows.
"I wasn't actually expecting to see you again." Darcy reholstered his revolver.
"I seem to be indestructible." The response was cool.
"That wasn't actually what I meant." Darcy rubbed his leg gently. "I was remembering more to the point that you had only said you'd show us out of town."
"I'll show you to within a mile of the front, then you'll be on your own." The Count paused for a second. "I got the machinegunner, he won't shoot again. I also buried our friend, it will take them a while to realise that it wasn't Darcy here they shot." The Count blinked. "We need to get moving, they're going to be looking for the missing men soon."
"Was John dead?" Ashie was looking slightly pale.
"I have never seen a deader man, but that machinegunner is even deader if you'll excuse bad grammar. Now, we really must be going." The Count lead them at a quickish pace through the bushes.
It was two hours later when the Count came to another abrupt halt, his head jerking as he scanned the snowy countryside.
"A problem?" Darcy had made a quick scan but had seen nothing.
"No, but the front is a mile that way." The Count waved his hand ahead of them. "I hope you make it through, and if you do make it through Darcy, I want you to tell Parker, 'All's clear so far'."
"All's clear so far?"
"Correct." The Count nodded briefly.
"Well give us two days, then send condolences for us to Parker."
"You are being a doleful chap Major. Cheerio Khalid, I hope I never see you again, but just in case I do I hope to see you in England." Ashie gave a grin and a wave then grabbed Darcy's arm and headed forward. Darcy turned and caught one final glimpse of the Count as he turned and vanished into the deep shadows at the edge of the road they were following.
"Ashie this is not a race, you needn't travel as if you're travelling with an emergency message for the front." Darcy shook his arm clear.
"Oh but we do have an emergency message for the front, just the other side of it. How are we going to cross Major?"
"We can decide that when we get there, but I will immediately rule out the idea of strolling out cheerfully and ambling straight across."
"Have to admit, I was never thrilled by the idea of a bullet in the back, a bullet in the front is bad enough."
"Been hit have you?"
"I'll say, felt like I'd been kicked by a mule, I was half-way back to Alexandria before I was conscious enough to be sea sick."
"You are a great conversationalist Ashie, you know just what to say to make merry and cheerful conversation."
"Well since your a foot taller I can't precisely fight you, so I specialise in polite conversation." Ashie met Darcy's doubtful look with a cheerful grin then set up strolling with a cheerful whistle. Darcy listened to the queer music for a minute.
"What in Hades is that cacophony you are trying to whistle Ashie?"
"Latest music hall tune...or whatever the Turkish equivalent is." Ashie paused just long enough to respond.
"Well I don't like it."
"Not surprising, now I suggest a bit of silence as we have some soldiers approaching and they don't look Turkish."
"Well if they are the Turks have had a change of uniform rather recently to German Grey."
"Haven't seen a German yet so you must forgive my ignorance." Ashie resumed his whistling.
"Sprechen sie deutsch?" The small group came to a halt and forced Darcy and Ashie to halt.
"J-a!" Darcy responded hesitantly.
"Gute." There followed a whole mass of German which Darcy listened to blankly, it was far beyond his meager grip of the language, but he managed to pick up reference to Erzurum, so he responded with several nods and pointed the way they had come.
"Danke." The group of Germans moved off and Darcy and Ashie hastened on towards the front.
"What did they want to know?" Ashie looked up curiously.
"Curiosity killed the cat. To be honest Ashie, I haven't the faintest idea what they asked, but I heard Erzurum a couple of times."
"Well I advise accelerating our pace as they keep looking at us."
"What?" Darcy cast a glance over his shoulder and saw that Ashie was indeed correct the Germans had indeed stopped and were staring after them.
"Major, I'm still wearing an Australian Uniform."
"It doesn't look like one." Darcy eyed Ashie's disreputable attire.
"But military boots are military boots, no matter how bashed and trashed they are."
"Point." Darcy shrugged slightly. "I vote we continue walking in a casual manner until something happens. Not worth precipitating matters by useless actions."
"What! Not willing to take on all six when you only have five shots left in that revolver of yours? Major you disappoint me." Ashie gave another grin.
"Ashie!...and I thought Bennie was bad." Darcy shook his head, then suddenly dove off the road and into the rough ground.
"Good timing Major." Ashie rubbed his shoulder.
"Hit?"
"Just clipped my shoulder, not badly."
"Give me a look."
"Major, do we have the time to wait?"
"We always have enough time if we want it. Now show."
"Oke-doke." Ashie pulled his shoulder and exposed a longish flesh wound which cut from shoulder to the back of his neck.
"Let's move then, we'll get the Russians to doctor it for you."
When they reached the front proper it came somewhat as a shock for both men, they had been listening to the crump of the guns and the chatter of machineguns for most of their trip, but when they finally crossed the last ridge and slid down towards the positions it was as if the world exploded in their faces. There were regular tremors as shells rained down.
"Heck, they must be preparing for an offensive."
"Which spells a lot of trouble for us, they are still using high explosives, which means that the shrapnel still has to come." A brief slither brought them onto a smooth expanse of pristine snow and they perforce had to stop. Darcy blinked at the racket, he had forgotten how loud it was since he had been hospitalized, but now he was rapidly remembering what it was like to be Major Darcy, scared half witless and wondering when he was going to die.
"How'd we get here?" Darcy suddenly spat out a mouthful of gritty snow and found himself sitting in the bottom of a small trench half filled with snow, corpses and mud.
"'Bout half a minute ago you suddenly gave a holler, grabbed me and went haring over here, we was back there." Ashie waved with one hand while he tried to clean his face with the other, he had blood running from a gash in his head.
"Well I'll appologise, I must have gone a little mad."
"I'm not complaining Major, I'd have gone haring the other direction had you not grabbed me. Nothing like a few corpses to bring you back to earth and make you realise that at worst you can die."
"Getting injured is worse then dying." Darcy took a quick look over the top of the trench.
"We won't get injured here, we'll either live or die, we don't have an intermediate stage."
"Now you're the one being cheerful." Darcy jerked his head back down as a sudden stillness fell over the front, for some reason the Russian cannonade had ceased. Then Darcy heard it and he tilted his head to listen. It was a clear dinging noise, like when a branch strikes against metal, but it was too regularly irregular to be a branch, besides which there was no wind.
"What is it?" Ashie was puzzled by Darcy's immobility.
"I think I just found our safe passage across the lines. Follow me and keep it quiet."
"Yes, sir." It was Captain Ashington-Frankston who responded to the order. Darcy lead the way out of the trench and across the ground at a fairly quick pace, his ears focussed on the direction of the sound, eyes focussed on the ground he was crossing watching for potential hazards and trip wires. It was a tug on his foot that stopped Darcy and he turned and glanced at Ashie.
"What?" Darcy hissed the question softly.
"Up there is where the dinger is." Ashie waved a hand up at the ruined church Darcy had been eyeing only a few seconds earlier.
"Thanks, I was wondering." Darcy changed his course and was soon travelling up the hill towards the bombed out the ruin. Darcy found what he was looking for a good ten feet from the building, it was a thin wire set a few inches above the ground, just high enough to catch a foot, but not high enough or strong enough to trip the walker. Darcy paused and considered it briefly before he finally climbed carefully over it. "Watch that trip wire."
"Got 'im." Ashie was soon next to Darcy.
"Stay put here, if I'm not back soon, make a run for it and see if you can make it across on your own. Here's the folder." Darcy handed over the folder.
"Will do Major, I'll see you back here within half an hour."
"Right." Darcy continued forward cautiously and soon found himself at the edge of the ruin, he had found two more wires in his journey and he expected he'd find at least one more, but it was now confirmed that the dinger was inside this ruin. A quick inspection of the partial doorway assured Darcy that it wasn't wired and he entered the ruin, he soon found both the dinger and his instrument, it was indeed an old bell, but it was a bayonet which was being applied to it, not a branch. Darcy paused for a minute to consider the best course of action, then promptly acted on his decision. A single jump had him beside the dinger, strong fingers catching a wiry throat and a free hand. He received a gurgle for his pains.
"Sprechen sie deutsch?"
"Nein!"
"Speak English?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now my friend I'm going to release you, but please don't try anything stupid, alright?" Darcy hesitated a moment then released his captive immediately taking two steps back. The swinging fist missed his head by several inches and the knife which was meant to disinter him missed by nearly as much. "That my friend was stupid." Darcy tied the man up with a special lock he had learnt care of Nash and this time he was rewarded with a gasp of pain. "Try something like that again and I'll make use of this nice little revolver to let a bit of daylight into your internals." It wasn't until after he spoke that Darcy realised two things. One, the man might not actually have that good a grip on English, and two that it was rather incongruous to threaten to let the daylight into someone in the middle of the night. A glowworm would have sneered at the amount of light in that room. Darcy released his grip again and this time shifted both back and two the right, but the man did not try anything.
"What do you want?"
"You signal to the Russians?"
"Them Muscovy Ghiaors." Was the response.
"Not so sure about musky jaws my friend, but be kind, I want to get through the lines, I have some important information for their High Command."
"Serious?"
"Test me and see." Darcy was starting to get bored with this.
"Well okay." The man hit the bell three times with great precision and three clear dings rang out of that cracked bell.
"Send it in English, I don't want to get shot."
"I think they might then not understand."
"Okay send it how you like, but I'll return to kill you if you double cross me." Darcy listened as there was a soft response from another bell somewhere else on the front.
"They understand, they expect you in half an hour."
"There are two of us." There was a minute while the correction was made.
"They expect two of you in half an hour. It would make no difference to me whether you want to kill me or not, I will be dead before dawn."
"Then I say thank you for your aid, sorry for strangling you, and hope you go in peace, this night will more then repay the Turks for your death."
"Thank you, there is nothing I could wish for more." The response was soft, and yet there was no doubt this man was speaking the truth. Darcy nodded briefly then turned and left the ruin, a few minutes later he was skidding to a stop beside Ashie.
"That you Major?"
"Yes, get moving we have half an hour."
"Wilco. Who was it?"
"I suspect it was an Armenian, poor blighter will be dead by dawn and I don't want him to die for nothing."
"Then lets get moving in a hip hop and a hurry." Ashie came to his feet and handed Darcy the folder. Darcy hurriedly pocketed it before leading the way straight down towards the lines.
Hussein watched silently as the two shadows headed towards the line, one so large, and one a midget by comparison, the fact that he was still alive gave him the confidence to believe that they were for real, any Turk would have murdered him as soon as he had sent the message. But why had Khalid not warned him of their coming? Khalid himself had been intending to cross this night, but now he would have to wait, had he done the wrong thing giving into the tall shadow's persuasive arguments? Hussein rubbed his head and studied the snowy expanse below himself. A fitting end, how he would love it if that large shadow spoke the truth, that the blow could be prepared for during his last watch.
"Hussein, you grow careless." The voice came softly from the back of the room and interrupted Hussein's train of thought.
"Khalid?" Hussein spun to stare at the slight figure.
"As observed, you grow careless."
"Two men are currently crossing, was I wrong to let them go?"
"Description?" It was a sharp query.
"The one I had anything to do with was very tall, he is accompanied by a smaller man who waited down at the first wire."
"Sounds clear."
"He said he had important information for the Muskovy Ghiaors."
"He spoke the truth." There was faint laughter in the Count's voice. "Those two men carry with them the general staff map for this region."
"My prays are answered, I will now die happy my friend."
"There is no need to die you know."
"I have no one left to live for."
"Not even for the restoration of your land and people?"
"There are others more suited to the task then I."
"You are stubborn my friend." There was almost a sigh in the voice. "Go in peace, perhaps someday we will meet again."
"Perhaps." Hussein watched as the slim figure merged back into the shadows and vanished, he then turned his attention back to the task at hand for he could not last past dawn.
"Sorry!" Darcy made a deprecating movement as he mumbled the apology to the Turkish soldiers he had fallen in on top of before scrambling out of the trench again. "Not in there." Darcy grabbed Ashie's arm as Ashie nearly slipped into another trench. "Time we started wriggling I think. Some ten minutes later Darcy was frowning darkly at a tangle of barbed wire, it was too high to jump over, too thick to crawl through, and he didn't have a pair of wire cutters so he couldn't cut his way though.
"Darcy, to the right." Ashie was already headed as he spoke. Darcy promptly followed until they were through the smallish gap a shell had torn in the wiring.
"Give a bit more warning before you take off again Ashie."
"Sorry sir, guess I'm just a bit sick of the air. Last time I smelt it both Griz and Swan were alive and I'm afraid they're memories I don't wish to indulge in, especially since we are trying to get through here alive."
"Well I think we'll just run now, won't make any difference whether we're shot standing up or lying down, but we only have tennish minutes before our pass expires and I don't wish to be here when the shelling resumes."
"Stirling notion." Ashie came to his feet at the same time as Darcy and then they were running in an uncontrolled manner across the expanse of far from pristine snow, there were frequent detours made to avoid shell holes and more than one jump was made to avoid a corpse. There was a moment of hesitation as they hit the Russian lines, then suddenly Darcy found himself falling, he had slipped into a communication trench which stretched beyond the wire. A quick wriggle had them past the wire and face to face with a group of fairly heavily furred Russian Cossacks. A question was asked, but Darcy just shrugged in response.
"General." At worst they would misunderstand it. There was another gabble of voices and questions, then Darcy found himself being hustled through numerous trenches, Ashie was following directly on his heels. Five minutes had them outside a small single room office which was three quarters sunk into the snow and ground. There was a gaggle of voices and a lot of unintelligible conversation then Darcy found himself hustled down into the damp and dark little room.
"Who are these men?" A broad man with a scarred cheek looked up from his work. "Well if it ain't de Duivel. What are you doing here of all places."
"I tripped over an old acquaintance the other day and thought you might like what I found."
"Let's see, let's see. Never knew you not to produce something useful, so let's see what you bring."
"Just a map." Darcy dug the folder out of his coat and handed it across and watched with a faint smile as General Prince Mikhael Golgerov pounced on it with bent brows. Two minutes later and orders were flying, Darcy and Ashie had retreated to a corner to be out of the way.
Three hours passed while Darcy and Ashie continued to huddle in their corner, the General had been running in and out of the room almost without break, the radio in the corner had chattered away ceaselessly, and the volume of general noise had increased as the cannonade began all over again.
"Two days my dear Duivel, two days and we will be in Erzurum, three days and who knows where we'll be." The General shrugged. "Now what can I do for you?"
"Well a bath, a shave, a change of clothes and a quick trip back to England would suit me just fine." Darcy stretched as much as he could in the confined space.
"The Major's choice sounds fine to me as well." Ashie yawned. "Though a bit of sleep wouldn't go astray either."
"Very well, the matter will be attended to immediately." The General settled back in his chair. "Now, until we get some horses together I want to hear all you have to tell Duivel."
"Isn't much to tell." Darcy suddenly yawned. "Damn it all Ashie, now you've started me yawning."
"How can you blame me?" Ashie sat up abruptly.
"Easily. I wasn't yawning until after you started and Mikhael here hasn't yawned, so it must be your fault that I'm yawning."
"Why do you call him Duivel?" Ashie changed the subject.
"I think Magreeta named him that first, I didn't actually show up until a year or so after he got the name."
"Yes it was Magreeta who first named me 'the Devil' but really Mikhael do you want to turn this into a story telling session? I doubt you want it told around about the Gantor Pass."
"I thought we'd agreed to forget about that matter?" Mikhael had frozen dead for a second.
"Oh yes, we had agreed to forget about it, but I'm tired and I might forget we agreed to forget about it if you annoy me too much."
"Why are you so damn touchy about it all Duivel?" Mikhael settled back in his chair again.
"There are many things I'd like to forget Mikhael and Magreeta just happens to be one of them."
"I think I hear the horses coming." Mikhael turned to Ashie. "Would you mind going to see?"
"Right ho, but I'll murder you if the Major ain't happy when I return."
"You needn't fear, de Duivel would get me long before you even had a hope of it." Mikhael waited until Ashie had left the room. "So, why so touchy that you had to reintroduce Gantor Pass?"
"That is an officer who does not lack in brains, though he was a bit low on discipline when I knew him. It won't take much for someone to connect the dots and pull up the evidence that Darcy, de Duivel and Seymour are all one and the same person, that just happens to be an interesting bit of useless information which I would prefer remained unknown of for as long as possible."
"Whatever, I don't understand you, I never have understood you, and I didn't even understand your brother, but the horses are here so I think this is probably our final farewell."
"I think you are probably right Mikhael." Darcy rose to his feet. "And with that in mind I suggest that we both forget everything about each other except for our trip into the tablelands."
"I'd rather not actually." Mikhael rose to his feet as well. "I always enjoyed your company Duivel and I would regret it if I were asked to forget so much of an interesting part of my life. Your brother made a choice, he was not ordered to do what he did, so why not respect his choice and let life continued."
"It is not my brother who occupies this matter Mikhael, it is the fact that you threatened my country to the degree that my brother felt such action to be suitable."
"Possibly if the positions were reversed I would feel the same, but I was not brought up with so much importance put on my country and my King."
"You have a Czar, not a King."
"We won't for long my friend, and when he goes, I too will go. Lenin will rise to power before this war is over and everybody knows it."
"I see." Darcy nodded slowly, turned to go, then stopped. "I'll be sorry when that day dawns Mikhael, you were a good friend."
"I won't be sorry Duivel. I've lived for 50 years, I'll be retired very soon, I'll be glad to go for our world will never be the same."
"It never was the same." Darcy stopped again and looked back at his old friend, he suddenly realised how old his friend was. "Go in peace my friend, it is what you deserve."
"Do I? It is a matter I have often wondered about."
"Don't wonder, know. Goodbye." Darcy then turned and left the small sunken office, in three days he was back in England, but his mind had not yet arrived. Had Mikhael been speaking the truth when he pinpointed most of Darcy's bitterness not at the Empire being attacked but at his brother being killed?