stone, slab of concrete – but von Stralick chose this time to stroll over from the fire where he’d been conferring with Madame Zelinka. He brought a lantern and squatted next to where Aubrey was sitting, his back against a lorry, a groundsheet spread out beneath him.
‘Fitzwilliam, I need to tell you something I neglected to mention earlier.’
Aubrey yawned, which made his headache move around abominably. ‘Neglected? I can’t imagine you neglecting anything, Hugo.’
‘Perhaps neglected is not the right word.’
‘What about “held back”? I’ll wager that’s more accurate.’
Von Stralick still hadn’t regained all the weight he’d lost in his illness, but he was definitely looking more robust. Aubrey decided that Madame Zelinka must have been taking good care of him. ‘Before we left Fisherberg, I had time to meet an old colleague of mine.’
‘From your spying days?’
‘Indeed. She confirmed much of what the Enlightened Ones reported about the useful opposition to the Chancellor. She also gave me a file before she had to flee Fisherberg.’
‘Had to flee? Why?’
‘For the same reason I’m not welcome there. The faction of the intelligence service that is now in the ascendant is not the faction to which we once belonged.’
‘Where?’
‘Where what?’
‘Where did she go?’
‘Really, Fitzwilliam, does it matter?’
‘It does if you’re suspicious. Which I am.’
‘Do not be. I trust her with my life.’
‘I hope it doesn’t come to that. The file?’
‘Copies of memoranda from the Holmland Supreme Army Command, among other things. They contain details of what they’re calling the next phase of the war.’
Von Stralick gave him a battered folder, bulging with documents. Aubrey leafed through them and grew increasingly wide-eyed. Troop dispersals, materiel requisitions, supply invoices – and maps. Many, many maps.
‘The Directorate would give anything for this.’
‘I’m sure they would.’
Aubrey closed the file and rested his hands on top of it. Von Stralick’s face was shrouded, silhouetted as he was against the campfire. ‘Why are you doing this, Hugo?’
Von Stralick picked at some mud on the knee of his trousers. ‘Because I am a loyal Holmlander.’
‘Passing secret documents to the enemy is an action of a loyal Holmlander?’
‘Loyalty is a complex thing, Fitzwilliam, as I’m sure you’ve found.’
Aubrey recalled his discussion with George about rational patriotism. Blindly following anything was not good. Rationally following something, aware of the issues, the strengths and shortcomings, was better.
‘You think that this information will help Albion bring the war to a swift conclusion.’
‘I do. A long, drawn-out war would be bad for everyone. Decisive action is needed.’
‘Then why have you waited until now to give it to me?’
Von Stralick was silent for a moment, nodding. ‘It’s you, Fitzwilliam. You are the problem.’
‘Me?’
‘It is difficult to understand you, Fitzwilliam. You are an Albionite, but you do not always act in the interests of Albion. Not obviously.’
‘I beg your pardon. I always act in the interests of Albion.’
‘It is hard to see that nursing a Holmland spy back to health is in the interests of Albion, for instance.’
‘Ex-Holmland spy,’ Aubrey mumbled, his thoughts elsewhere. Had he been acting against Albion?
‘And what about in Stalsfrieden? You had a herd of giant concrete animals at your disposal. You could have killed all the Holmland soldiers stationed there.’
‘It mightn’t have been as easy as you think. I barely had those beasts under control,’ Aubrey said, but he remembered the chaotic events as they escaped the clutches of Baron von Grolman. Did he overlook a chance to wreak even more havoc?
‘Don’t forget what you’ve done here,’ von Stralick continued. ‘You’ve saved the population of an entire Holmland village from being killed. Is that in the interests of Albion?’
‘I made sure Albion wasn’t blamed for a massacre, that’s all. Now Dr Tremaine doesn’t have an outrage to rally ordinary Holmlanders behind.’
‘Then you went on and saved the village from any reprisals.’
‘More of the same. It makes good strategic sense, protecting Albion’s interests.’
‘And that is all?’
It was Aubrey’s turn for silence. Behind them, his friends and the Enlightened Ones were outlined against the glow of the fire, talking in low, casual murmurs. ‘I don’t like to see innocent people being hurt,’ he said eventually. ‘Sorry.’
‘Tcha! Don’t be afraid of compassion, Fitzwilliam. It is one reason that I am giving you this file.’
‘What?’ Aubrey blinked and ran a hand over the dossier. ‘Er, any other reasons?’
‘You think about your actions instead of blindly going ahead. That reassures me that I’m doing the right thing.’
Aubrey cleared his throat. Was it getting cold? ‘I appreciate it, Hugo.’ He opened the file and raised an eyebrow at the assorted photographs of Holmland generals and political leaders. Good portrait quality photographs. ‘And what exactly is the Supreme Army Command planning next?’
‘It’s all in there,’ von Stralick said. ‘Feints, withdrawals, build-ups. I spent most of the journey here piecing it together, and I’m not sure that I have it all straight, but it looks as if the generals want to push into Gallia via Divodorum rather than through the north-west.’
‘I had fears that this could be the case.’
‘Troops have been falling back and digging in on the western front to hold the line.’ Von Stralick leaned forward and sifted through papers. ‘All other capacities will be directed to the Divodorum region. A massive effort will be made to break through into Gallia and crush its resistance. Soon.’
Aubrey had a moment of insight. This could be a pivotal moment on which the entire outcome of the war depended. Like a boulder balanced on the peak of a hill, a push and it would roll one way, a different push and it would roll the other.
If this Holmland plan were successful, the world that this would create wouldn’t be one that Aubrey would be happy living in. A battle to break through at Divodorum could be big enough to present the world with an immortal Dr Tremaine.
Reasons aplenty to stop this from happening, but Aubrey also spared a thought for the men on the ground. He’d had a glimpse of the developing war front when they’d skirted the trenches outside Divodorum and what he had seen was the dusty, benighted plight of the infantry, dug in amid the blood and terror, holding their positions or trying to advance inch by inch. He remembered the lads who were joining up when George and he had attempted to do the same. Had they met their fate in the squalor that was the trenches?
If Aubrey could do something to prevent these ordinary men from being ground away, stone against stone, that was reason enough to risk his own life – and the life of his friends, loath though he was to contemplate this.
‘Note how the generals talk about strategic aims,’ von Stralick said, ‘and tactical movements and battleground outcomes. From their vantage point, well behind the lines, it all makes sense.’
‘I’m sure it does. To them.’ Aubrey hummed a little, thinking. ‘Thank you, Hugo. You’ve given me something else to worry about.’
‘My pleasure, Fitzwilliam. In the time I have known you, I’ve come to think that I’d rather have you worrying about a problem than most other people.’
Von Stralick flipped an ironic salute then slipped off, taking his lantern with him. Aubrey watched the night, the moving figures that were the Enlightened Ones, the shapes of the humble buildings of Korsur, and he reluctantly made an effort to take this new ball of worries and roll it to the corner of his mind.
