began to reach the trench line, and fell out of sight into it.
She started at a crashing explosion close behind her, and when she looked around, she saw the thin grey feathers of smoke drifting from a British artillery battery at the foot of the hill. The guns were so cleverly concealed beneath A their camouflage nets that she had not noticed them until they fired.
Then she saw other guns, concealed in forest and orchard, begin firing at the unseen enemy, and the answering German salvoes burst in random fury along the line of freshly dug fortifications. A raised voice roused her from her fearful fascination, and she looked around to see a platoon of infantry men doubling up the path to the crest of the hill. They were led by a subaltern who waved his arms wildly at her.
Get out of here, you damned fool! Can't you see that you are in the middle of a battle? She swung Nuage's head around to the path and urged him into a gallop. She swept past the file of soldiers and when she looked back, they were already frantically digging into the stony earth at the crest of the hill.
Centaine checked her mount as they reached the crossroads. All the vehicles had passed, except those stuck in the ditches and abandoned. However, the roadway was crowded with a rabble of retreating infantry who staggered under their loads, carrying on their backs the dismembered machine-guns and boxes of ammunition, and the other equipment that they had managed to salvage.
Amid the squeal of whistle and shouted orders their officers were rallying them and sending them off the roadway to the freshly dug trenches.
Suddenly over Centaine's head passed a mighty rushing sound, like a hurricane wind, and she ducked fearfully. A shell burst a hundred paces from where she sat, and Nuage reared on his hind legs. She caught her balance and gentled him with voice and touch.
Then she saw a lorry come towards the crossroads from the village, and when she stood in her stirrups she could make out the red cross in its white circle painted on the side. She galloped down to meet it, and seven more ambulances followed the first through the bend. She reined in beside the cab of the leading ambulance. Have you been sent to the chAteau? What's that, luv? The driver could not understand her heavily accented English, and she bounced on her saddle with frustration.
Captain Clarke? she tried again, and he understood. You seek Captain Clarke? Yes, that's it. Captain Clarke! Where is he? Come! Centaine raised her voice as another shell burst beyond the stone wall beside them and there was the electric sound of shrapnel passing overhead. Come! she gestured, and swung Nuage into the lane.
With the line of ambulances following her, she galloped up the driveway towards the chAteau, and saw a shell burst just beyond the stables and another hit the greenhouse at the bottom of the vegetable gardens. The glass panels splintered into a diamond spray in the sunlight.
The chateau is a natural target, she realized, and galloped Nuage into the yard.
Already they were bringing out the wounded, and as the first ambulance pulled up at the bottom of the stairs, the driver and his orderly sprang out to help load the stretchers into the back of the truck.
Centaine turned Nuage into the paddock beside the stables and ran back to the kitchen door. Behind her a howitzer shell hit the tiled roof of the long stable building, blowing a hole through it and knocking out part of the stone wall. However, the stables were empty, so Centaine darted into the kitchen.
Where have you been? Anna demanded. I have been so worried- Centaine pushed past her and ran through to her own room. She pulled the carpet bag from the top of her wardrobe and began to throw clothing into it.
There was a deafening crash from somewhere above, and the plaster ceiling cracked and chunks of it fell around her. Centaine swept the silver frame of photographs off the bedside table into the bag, then opened the drawer and found her jewelbox and her travelling toilet set. The air was full of white plaster dust.
Another shell burst on the terrace outside her room, and the window over her bed exploded. Flying glass rattled against the walls and a shard grazed her forearm and left a bloody line on her skin. She licked the blood away and dropped on her knees, creeping half under the bed, and prised up the loose floorboard.
The leather purse with their hoard of cash lay in the recess beneath it. She weighed the purse in one hand almost two hundred francs in gold louis d'or, then dropped it into the bag.
Lugging the carpet bag, she ran down the stairs into the kitchen.
Where is Papa? she shouted at Anna.
He went up to the top floor. Anna was stuffing strings of onions, hams and bread loaves into a grain sack. She pointed with her chin at the empty hooks on the wall. He has taken his gun and plenty of cognac. I will fetch him, Centaine panted. Take care of my bag. She hitched up her skirts and raced back up the stairs.
The upper levels of the chateau were in confusion. The ambulance orderlies were trying to clear the salon and the main staircase.
Centaine! Bobby Clarke called across the stairwell at her. Are you ready to leave? He was manhandling one end of a stretcher, and he had to raise his voice above the shouts of the orderlies and the groans of the wounded.
Centaine fought her way up against the press of humanity descending the stairs, and Bobby caught her sleeve as she came level with him. Where are you going? We have to get out! My father, I must find my father. She shook off his hand and went on.
The topmost levels of the house were deserted and Centaine ran through them, shouting shrilly, Papa! Papa!
Where are you? She ran down the long gallery, and from the walls the portraits of her ancestors gazed down haughtily upon her.
At the end of the gallery she threw her weight on to the double doors which led through into the suite of bedrooms that had been her mother's and which the comte had kept unchanged all these years.
He was in the dressing-room, slumped in the highbacked tapestry-covered chair in front of the portrait of Centaine's mother, and he looked up as Centaine burst into the room. Papa, we must leave immediately. He did not seem to recognize her. There were three unopened cognac bottles on the floor between his feet, and he held another by the neck. It was half-empty, and he lifted it and took a mouthful of the raw spirit, still gazing at the portrait. Please, Papa, we must go! His single eye did not even blink as another shell crashed into the chAteau, somewhere in the east wing.
She seized his arm and tried to pull him to his feet, but he was a big man and heavy. Some of the brandy spilled
