We have guests! The Comte showed her the empty cognac bottle and she shrugged helplessly.
Milord, you will assist me in the selection of suitable refreshments? Honoured, Monsieur le Comte. As Centaine watched the pair, arms linked descend the stone staircase, there was a thoughtful look in her eyes.
He is a drole one, your friend, and very loyal. See how he rushed here to your aid. See how he places a charm on my Papa. Michael was surprised by the strength of his dislike for Andrew at that moment. He smelled the cognac, he muttered. That's the only reason he came. But what of the four children? Anna demanded. And their mother? She was having as much difficulty as the comte in following the conversation.
Four mothers, Michael explained. Four children, four different mothers. He is a polygamist! Anna swelled with shock and affront, and her face went a shade redder.
No, no, Michael assured her. You heard him deny it.
He is a man of honour, he would not do such a thing. He is married to none of them. Michael felt not a qualm, he had to have an ally somewhere in the family, but at that moment the happy pair returned from the cellars laden with black bottles.
Aladdin's cave, Andrew rejoiced. The comte has got it filled with good stuff! He placed half a dozen bottles on the kitchen table in front of Michael. Look at this!
Thirty years old, if it's a day! Then he peered closely at Michael. You look awful, old boy. Death warmed up. Thanks, Michael grinned at him thinly. You are so kind. Natural brotherly concern - Andrew struggled to draw the cork from one of the bottles, and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. By God, isn't she a corker! He glanced across the kitchen to where the women were at work over the big copper pot. I'd rather feel her than feel sick, what? Michael's dislike for Andrew turned to active hatred.
I find that remark utterly revolting, he said. To talk like that about a young girl, so innocent, so fine, so so- Michael stuttered into silence, and Andrew held his head on one side and peered at him wonderingly.
Michael, my boy, this is worse than just a few burns and bruises, I'm afraid. It's going to need intensive treatment. He filled a glass. To start with, I prescribe a liberal dose of this excellent claret! At the head of the table the comte had the cork out of another of the bottles, and refilled the doctor's glass.
A toast! he cried. Confusion to the damned boche! A has les boches!
they all cried, and as soon as the toast was drunk the comte placed his hand over the black patch which covered the socket of his missing eye.
They did this to me at Sedan in 7o. They took my eye, but they paid dearly for it, the devils, Sacrg bleu, how we fought! Tigers! We were tigers-, Tabby cats! Anna called across the kitchen.
You know nothing of battle and war, these brave young men, they know, they understand! I drink to them! He did so copiously and then demanded, Now, where is the food? It was a savoury ragofit of ham and sausage and marrow bones. Anna brought bowls of it steaming from the stove and Centaine piled small loaves of crisp new bread on the bare table.
Now tell us, how goes the battle? the comte demanded as he broke bread and dipped it into his bowl. When will this war end? Let us not spoil good food. Andrew waved the question away, but with crumbs and gravy on his mustache the comte insisted. What of a new Allied offensive? It will be in the west, on the Somme river again. It is there that we have to break through the German lines. It was Michael who answered; he spoke with quiet authority, so that almost immediately he had all their attention.
Even the two women came from the stove and Centaine slipped on to the bench beside Michael, turning serious eyes up to him as she struggled to understand the English conversation.
How do you know all this? the comte interrupted.
His uncle is a general, Andrew explained.
A general! The comte looked at Michael with new interest. Centaine, do you not see that our guest is in difficulty? And while Anna gruffed and scowled, Centaine leaned over Michael's bowl and cut the meat into manageable portions so that he could eat with one hand.
Go on! Continue! the comte urged Michael. What then? General Haig will pivot right. This time he will succeed in cutting across the German rear, and roll up their line. Ha! So we are secure here. The comte reached for the claret bottle, but Michael shook his head.
I am afraid not, not entirely anyway. This section of the line is being stripped of reserves, regimental fronts of the line are being reduced to battalion strength, everything that can be spared is being moved to take part in a new push across the Sornme. The comte looked alarmed. That is criminal folly surely the Germans will counter-attack here to try and reduce pressure on their front at the Somme? The line here, it will not hold? Centaine asked anxiously and involuntarily glanced up at the kitchen windows. From where they sat, they could see the ridges on the horizon.
Michael hesitated. Oh, I am sure that we will be able to hold them long enough, especially if the fighting round the Somme goes as well and as quickly as we expect. Then the pressure here will swiftly be relieved as the Allied advance swings across the German rear.
But if the battle bogs down and is stalemated once again? Centaine asked softly in Flemish.
For a girl, and one with little English, she had a firm grasp on the essentials. Michael treated her question with respect, answering, in Afrikaans, as though he was speaking to another man.
Then we will be hard-pressed, especially as the Huns have aerial superiority. We may lose the ridges again. He paused and frowned. They will have to rush in reserves.
We may even be forced to pull back as far as Arras- Arras! Centaine gasped. That means- She did not finish, but looked around at her home as though already taking farewell of it. Arras was far to the rear.
Michael nodded. Once the attack begins, you will be in extreme danger here. You will be well advised to evacuate the chateau and go back south to Arras or even Paris.'Never! cried the comte switching back into French. A de Thiry never retreats.
Except at Sedan, Anna muttered, but the comte did not deign to hear such levity.
I will stand here, on my own land. He pointed at the ancient chassepot rifle that hung on the kitchen wall. That
