Cardinal Ceccani is guilty of the most terrible betrayal of me, and yet here you are, wandering around this town in broad daylight, quite unmolested. If I were Ceccani, I would have cut your throat before you came near me.”
“He does not know I am here. But there is a letter.”
“Give it to me, then.”
“I cannot. There is no time. Either for you or for me. The torture of the two Jews will start soon, if it has not already. There will be more riots in the streets when night falls. And you must move quickly if you are to save Aigues-Mortes for the French.”
“You are suggesting I take severe measures against a cardinal who is my closest advisor, on your word alone? No, young man. How do I know you have not been suborned by de Deaux? Or maybe you have a dispute of your own with Ceccani and wish to ruin him in revenge? You are unconvincing. I will do nothing on the basis of what you say.”
He was half-convinced, Olivier knew, and very worried. Clement knew quite well that it was a scheme Ceccani was capable of devising. But he was not sure enough to act. Not ruthless enough, perhaps. Ceccani would have done so already, on half the evidence. But the pontiff was a gentler, more pacific man, less able to think ill of people, and who found disturbance almost painful. Olivier found his prize slipping from his fingers, and so tried his final throw.
“Holiness, you say you are surprised I have not been silenced. So am I. I do not think my safety will last long.”
He paused. “Send someone to find me this evening. If I am still unmolested, then I have not proved my case, for why would anyone wish to do me harm?”
Olivier stopped, and looked carefully at the pontiff. “If someone has attacked me, then arrest him as the person who will deliver Aigues-Mortes to the English for the cardinal. Interrogate him, and discover the truth. You will also remember that the man who conceived this plan is the one who is also urging you to begin a crusade against the Jews. And you will think about that carefully before you follow his advice to soak your name in blood for his purposes.”
Clement considered. “Very well. I accept your offer. By this evening we will know whether you are a liar or a fool.”
“As for my friends, I am not trying to force you to save these two people; I leave them to your mercy and ask for no more.”
The pope rose; he liked nothing more than to demonstrate his generosity and his mercy. “The pope must know how to behave like a prince” was his belief. He liked no man to leave his presence unsatisified.
“You may take them,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I give them to you. One condition though. And that is that you tell me why any Christian should place himself at risk to save Jews, either a brace of them or the entire people.”
Olivier thought, and then accepted his failure. He had spent much of his time in the last few months trying to wrestle with the thorny questions Manlius Hippomanes had thrown at him, and he now understood for the first time the difference between clever patterns of words and the answers of the soul. “I do not know, sir,” he said. “I can discover no reason or justification for it, and do not wish to. I am neither a theologian nor a philosopher, a lawyer nor a politician. I cannot find reasons; my skill is to sing about the impulsions of the heart, and that is enough.”
Clement grunted. “Very well. If you want to play the fool, then so be it. Go away. Give me a convincing demonstration of your case by this evening, and I will reconsider. But if you don’t . . .”
He paused and thought.
“But if I don’t . . . ?” Olivier prompted.
The pope did not smile. “Then I will kill every Jew in Christendom, including your teacher and his servant.”
JULIEN STOOD ON the platform of the railway station for nearly half an hour, not knowing what to do. His mind had closed down. Only one train came through as he stood there, full of German soliders heading south, rattling and squealing, filling the atmosphere with thick coal smoke. The days of triumph had gone; they were traveling to be defeated; everyone knew it.
Eventually he shook himself, walked away, and found himself going back to the Préfecture. There was nothing else he could do. Only Marcel now could help in any way; so he went to beg.
He was, as usual, sitting neatly at his desk, going through papers, oblivious of the heat and the little trickle of sweat running down his temple into the frayed collar of his shirt. He looked up at Julien, with the defiant glance of a guilty man.
“What have you done?” Julien said quietly.
He shook his head. “It wasn’t me, Julien. Believe me, I didn’t do this. She was taken to the detention center, then the people from Jewish Affairs came. They didn’t know she was not to be moved. They wanted all the Jews. She had admitted she was one, so they took her. I only heard about it five minutes ago.”
“A mistake?” he said incredulously.
Marcel nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Get her back, Marcel. Phone ahead, say there’s been an error. Say she’s wanted for interrogation. Say something. Say anything. You can do it. You’re the préfet, for God’s sake.”
“It can’t be done, Julien. These convoys are run by the Gestapo. They don’t stop them because of requests from French officials. If she hadn’t signed a statement saying she was a Jew, I could have done something, perhaps. Why did she do that?”
Julien shook his head, dismissing the question. “What happens to her now?”
Marcel paused. “Do you want the official, reassuring answer? Or the one we both know?”
He didn’t reply, so Marcel continued. “Officially she will go to a labor camp. Conditions will be harsh but fair. She will be kept there until the war is over and then, no doubt, released.”
He hesitated, got up, and stood facing Julien, his hands in his pockets, his face looking down at the floor for a few moments.
“But you know as well as I do that is a lie, and that she will die there,” he said. “They are killing them, Julien. They said that’s what they were going to do, and they’re doing it. I’m sorry. I truly am. This is not what I intended. I wanted only to save the lives of twenty-six innocent hostages.”
Julien stood there, quite immobile, until Marcel came and touched him on the arm. “Come with me,” he said. “Let’s get out of here for a while.”
He allowed himself to be led, along the corridor with the worn linoleum, down the stone stairs, and out into the oppressive heat of the afternoon. They walked, quietly and companionably and for a long while silently; good friends, almost. The sort of walk that Marcel had always valued, and which Bernard so disdained. Together they crisscrossed the city, seeking out the dark and shadowy streets where the sun could not penetrate; past the steps where Olivier had first seen Rebecca, past the place where he had been attacked and where Isabelle had been murdered.
And Marcel stayed with him, saying nothing, hoping only to give some comfort with his presence, the assurance of his friendship. Eventually, Julien began to talk.
“When I was at Verdun,” he said quietly, “I saw things which were more appalling than you can imagine. I saw civilization coming apart at the seams. As it weakened, people felt free to act as they pleased, and did so, which weakened it still more. And I decided then it was the most important thing, that it had to survive and be protected. Without that tissue of beliefs and habits we are worse than beasts. Animals are constrained by their limitations and their lack of imagination. We are not.
“So that is what I have tried to do, all my life in a small and insignificant way. Anything would be better than another collapse like that, because I was certain that another would be final. No coming back. And I told myself that no matter what politicians or generals did, they were merely the barbarians, and everyone else had to defend what was truly important from them; keep the flickering flame going. People like Bernard and you were what I detested most of all. Neither of you was even honest enough to admit you wanted power.
“I was wrong, and I only realized it when you told me Julia had been denounced by the wife of our local blacksmith. Odd, don’t you think? I have seen war, and invasions and riots. I have heard of massacres and brutalities beyond imagining, and I have kept my faith in the power of civilization to bring men back from the brink.
