'Yes. It creates a great strain, physically and mentally. And the professor's a scientist, a city-dweller. It's not surprising that his body is rebelling. Oh, and he has migraines. I pity anyone who does - a terrible affliction. If you get a bad one, you can do nothing except lie in a dark room until it passes.'
'And your prognosis, Doctor?'
'The migraine should have passed by the morning. I expect the fever will subside too.'
'Will he be able to walk?'
'He'll be a bit weak, but possibly.'
'We could always make a stretcher.' Tanner sighed. 'I know this can't be helped, but the moment he can move again, we must leave. God knows where the front is now, but one thing is for certain: our forces are only going backwards. To have any hope of catching them up again, we can't afford to stay here too long.'
'Let's pray he sleeps well tonight, then.'
'You too, Anna. If we get going tomorrow, we all need to be rested.' Her face was truly lovely, he thought. The eyes, the gentle arc of her eyebrows, the curve of her lips. She moved her head, her eyes turned to his. Leaning down, he kissed her. Suddenly it seemed the most obvious and natural thing in the world.
A long night and an even longer morning. The rain had passed, and so had the professor's fever, but the head- shattering migraine was proving more stubborn. The men were restless; so, too, were Astrid Madsen and her father-in-law. It was clear they had had enough of sheltering a disparate bunch of soldiers.
And that damned clock, ticking away the seconds, the minutes, the hours. Tanner had taken over guard duty again outside Sandvold's room at around noon, and all the time he waited there he could hear it, reminding him that time, a precious commodity, was passing. He had felt more at ease on the mountain at Uksum Farm, where at least he could see the valley spread before them and watch the enemy's movement. Here they were hidden; the view back down the valley was not a long one - and it had occurred to him that they might now just as likely see German troops approaching from the north.
At one, Anna checked on the professor again, clasping Tanner's hand as she passed him. Reappearing a few minutes later, she said, 'The migraine has subsided. We can leave.'
Tanner breathed out heavily. At last.
The old farmer helped make a stretcher from two lengths of wood and an old piece of tarpaulin. The professor protested half-heartedly that he was capable of walking, but after nearly collapsing down the stairs that led from the farmhouse, he acquiesced. He looked ill, Tanner thought, his eyes dark hollows and his skin sallow.
'Are you sure he's fit to travel?' Tanner asked Anna.
'He is weak, but if he is on a stretcher he will be fine. It is no worse for him than lying on a bed. He needs rest, that is all.'
At least the others were now refreshed, Tanner thought. With the exception of Nielssen, who had kept his beard, the men were now cleanshaven once more, the sloping shoulders and foot-dragging of the previous morning replaced by a renewed vigour that was clear from the moment they set off.
They skirted the lake, then turned north-west, back under the protection of the forest and beneath the snowcapped peak of the Bringsfjellet. There was birdsong: the first Tanner had heard since he'd arrived in Norway. Among the pines and silver birch he could pick out a missel-thrush, a lark, and even a woodpecker. His mood lightened.
Aircraft appeared occasionally in the sky and at one point a Messerschmitt 110 had swept by close enough to make them take cover, but otherwise they had not seen a soul. By evening they were approaching the Otta valley, only a few miles from Vagamo, the small town that Tanner hoped would provide the gateway for their continued escape north.
They found a boarded-up seter among the trees beside a mountain brook, shielded behind a wooded outcrop. It was, Tanner knew with satisfaction, a good place to base themselves while they prepared the crossing. Hidden from the air by the dense covering of surrounding birch, alder and pine, it was also shielded from the valley below. On the other hand, the outcrop, climbing sharply half a mile beyond, would provide an ideal observation post from which they could watch the town and the lake.
He had barely spoken a word to Chevannes since he had hit the man the day before, so he turned now to Larsen and the professor. 'We need to have a look round,' he said, 'perhaps from this knoll.'
As he had hoped, Larsen suggested this to Chevannes, who silently concurred. Leaving the others at the seter, Tanner climbed through the trees, scrambling over patches of bare rock, until he reached the summit. From there the view stretched far and wide, the valley before them and the mountains on the far side in sharply defined clarity. With his naked eye, Tanner spotted the bridge crossing the mouth of the river, and the road along which he hoped they could escape, snaking through a valley to the north-west of the town. Now he peered through his binoculars. The bridge was of iron construction with wooden boarding across it, seventy to a hundred feet wide, he guessed. The town itself was set back from the river and, he now realized, spread more round a small, lesser river coming down from the valley beyond. He cursed; he'd not noticed that on Anna's map. Dark timber-framed buildings lined the main road and there was a wooden church, with what looked like a separate bell-tower next to it. And, yes, trucks and German military vehicles parked round an open area beside the church.
'The enemy is here,' said Chevannes, also looking through his binoculars. 'We will never get across.'
'Not in daytime,' said Tanner.
'What should we do?' asked Larsen.
Chevannes said nothing, so Tanner went on, 'Sir, with your permission I’d like to carry out a reconnaissance tonight.'
'What are you thinking? Crossing further east down the river?' said Larsen.
'No. I was considering crossing the lake. Look.' He pointed westwards. 'See that spur jutting out? And there's another on the other side. What's that? Two miles from Vagamo? The crossing would be quite narrow there. Jerry'll be pretty thick along the river between the town and Otta, but there's no need for him to go further west. There's nothing on the road west of Vagamo at all. I reckon we can get across there tomorrow night when it's dark, then double back and cross into the valley beyond, bypassing the town altogether. With any luck we'll pick up some M/T along there.'
'It means another long delay,' said Larsen.
'We need that road beyond,' Tanner said. 'It's the only clear route to Andalsnes. I admit it's a risk, but what alternative is there? One thing's for sure, we're not going to get through Vagamo with all those Jerries there.'
'You have a point, Sergeant,' agreed Larsen
Chevannes nodded. 'Very well. Do your reconnaissance tonight, Sergeant, and then we will decide.'
Tanner smiled to himself. A plan had already formulated in his head. A plan to solve all of their problems.
