Jacob's ladder
Chapter 11: Anna Bruckner

Luis grasped the tower rails and looked blindly at the opposite end of the square. He tried to interpret what he had seen in a favorable light, but a fixed idea hammered his brain, which he could not explain away: Gonzalo and Maurice had been mates. They had worked together before entering Lady Borland’s service. Was it possible that she had been duped to the point that both men engaged to protect Luis from Blatsov were actually agents of the man in black? Lord Wellington’s aide-de-camp had recommended them, but Gonzalo was proof that he could make a mistake. Maurice had helped him a lot, had got him out of Brussels against all the efforts by Napoleon to recapture him, but what was his real goal? Had he brought Luis to Aachen to put him in Blatsov’s hands? He needed to confirm his suspicions before it were too late.

In a state of confusion, he walked down the tower stairs and went out of the cathedral, but did not dare cross the square and pass before the pub where the two men had gone into. Was it possible that he have been mistaken and taken for Blatsov someone who resembled him? But even while he was grasping at this hope, his inmost mind had no doubt: the man he had seen and his mortal enemy were one and the same. His bearing, his way of walking, everything was the same. He knew Blatsov too well; he had had very good opportunities to notice, while he was being pursued.

Trying to be less conspicuous, he walked all the way around the square, took a side street and went back at the inn as fast as he dared. Although night had fallen, he would escape immediately. During the long days of their journey from Brussels, he had matured his project of going to Montsegur to find Charles. Up to now, he had not mentioned it to his companion. It was time to put it in practice.

For an instant, he thought of leaving without going to the inn, but rejected the idea for two reasons: he wanted to recover the pistol he had picked up in the battlefield, which was hidden in the room, and he wanted to take some coins from Maurice’s purse, because he would not be able to travel far without money. Maurice had said that the money actually belonged to Lady Borland, so Luis considered himself entitled to use it in his own benefit.

As soon as he arrived, he took the pistol and put it in his pocket. Then he searched Maurice’s belongings, but could not find the purse. Obviously, he had taken it when he went out. Just at that point, the door opened and Maurice came in. Fearing to see him come with Blatsov, Luis turned frightened, but the man was alone.

“What are you doing?” asked the Belgian with a strange smile which confirmed Luis’s worst suspicions.

“I’m looking for the purse. I need money.”

“What for?”

“That’s my business. Where have you been?”

“I went to speak to a friend, someone I know in Aachen who can help us, but couldn’t find him. We’ll have to stay here a few more days.”

Luis now knew that Maurice was lying.

“You haven’t answered my question,” continued his companion. “What do you want the money for?”

“I’ve told you it’s my business.”

“It’s my money. I won’t give you any unless you tell me what you want it for.”

“It’s more mine than yours, it belongs to Lady Borland.”

“Oh, ho! In that case, I’ll give you nothing. I wouldn’t anyway, for you won’t leave this room again.”

“Why?”

Maurice moved before the door and again exhibited his strange smile. The boy shuddered.

“You must meet someone here.”

“Blatsov.”

“You know?”

“I saw you with him. You have betrayed me.”

“I don’t like that word. I haven’t betrayed you, you are not my boss.”

“I know: a spy works for everybody. Both sides must believe that he is their man.”

“You are quoting someone. Who said that?”

“Gonzalo.”

“Not bad. It’s a good definition. If I had time and paper, I’d take a note. It may come useful.”

Suddenly Luis took the pistol from his pocket, cocked it and aimed at Maurice. Surprised, the man looked at the black mouth of the weapon, which he had not known was in the boy’s possession.

“Give me the purse and let me go.”

“Are you going to kill me, after all I’ve done for you?”

“What have you done? Saved me from an enemy to deliver me to a worse one? I don’t want to kill you, but I’ll do it if it’s the only way. Give me the money!”

Maurice seemed to surrender, put his right hand inside his pocket, took the purse and offered it, but when Luis came to take it, he hurled his left hand toward the pistol and tried to wrench it off. Luis fought to keep his grasp, and in the subsequent struggle the weapon fired accidentally and shot the Belgian in his face. Disfigured and bleeding, Maurice fell dead, while Luis leant shuddering against the wall to keep from fainting. He felt uncontrollable nausea, knelt on the ground and emptied the whole contents of his stomach.

When he recovered, his sight blurred by his tears, he remembered the imminence of Blatsov’s visit and suspected that he scarcely had any time. He took the purse from the corpse’s fingers and prepared to leave but, as he passed near the vomit pool, his attention was attracted by something small and gleaming, in the shape of two straight poles and four unequally separated echelons, and he recognized Jacob’s ladder.

With shaky fingers he took the amulet, cleaned it in the wash-basin with a little water, strung it in a thread from the clothes of the dead man, hung it around his neck, opened the door and prepared to flee from the inn. Just when he was coming at the entrance, he heard the steps of a man outside. Fearing that it could be Blatsov, he ran to the backyard and got out through the back gate. Two blocks away, he dared look behind, but nobody was following him. He walked slowly and cautiously until he reached the outskirts of Aachen. Once in the open field, he felt safer, for he would be able to detect his pursuers farther away.

It was night. The waning moon had not yet appeared, but the sky was clear and the stars gave some light. He decided to walk till the end of his strength. His nerves were strung and he would have found rest or sleep impossible. Getting his bearings by the Polar star, he took the way south. He still intended to travel to Roussillon and wanted to get as far from Blatsov as possible.

He walked the whole night and the next morning. He had left with an empty stomach and no food. At about noon, he felt too weak and had to stop. He was just passing near a farm. With an effort, he jumped the fence, ran to the barn, fell on a heap of straw and was soon sleeping deeply.

When he awoke, it took him some time to remember where he was. He noticed that he was starving, that it was night again and that he was covered by an unfamiliar rug which he did not remember to have used. Just then, two persons started speaking in French outside the barn. When he heard his own name, he shuddered and started listening to the conversation.

“His name is Luis García. He is about sixteen, with a dark complexion and middle height. He was seen yesterday in Aix-la-Chapelle, but he has escaped, and we think that he may have come in this direction. If you can tell me something which will help us to find him, you will be rewarded with money and the eternal gratitude of the emperor.”

Luis recognized the voice; he had heard it often: the speaker was major Gérard. The voice of the woman who answered was instead totally unknown.

“This part of Rhineland does not belong to France.”

“Not for long. If you know what is good for you, you’ll want to get his gratitude by not protecting his enemies.”

“I’ve never heard the name you mention. If this boy comes in my house, or if someone meeting your description passes by, without stopping here, I’ll send you warning. How can I do it?”

“One of my men will come once a day to get your news. Most ways are watched, but we cannot cover them all. We need the help of the farmers. Good-bye. We may meet again.”

The major rode away at a canter, leaving Luis in the deepest depression. With both Blatsov and Gérard after him, how would he be able to arrive safely at Montsegur?

“Any moment,” he thought, “this woman will come in the barn and report me. Perhaps I’d better surrender! If I must finally fall in their hands, why suffer? But whom should I surrender to? Napoleon will kill me, so that I won’t escape again. Being in Blatsov’s hands would be worse than dying. No, I must keep fleeing and God’s will be done!”

The light of the waning moon through the barn door was suddenly darkened by the shape of the woman. “This is the end,” thought Luis, who remained still and tried to hide among the straw. The woman, however, whose face and expression were hidden in the darkness, came near him, sat on the ground and spoke in French:

“How are you, boy?”

“You knew that I was here!” he exclaimed.

“Of course! Who did you think had covered you with the rug? It’s summer, but nights are cold.”

“Then why did you not deliver me to Gérard?”

“My name is Anna Bruckner,” she said, as though that explained everything; but noticing the boy’s confusion, she added: “I’m German, not French. If Napoleon is pursuing you, you are my friend and I’ll help you.”

“Thanks. I am...”

“No names, please! Thus I’ll be able to swear that I don’t know if so and so has been here. Are you hungry?”

“I’d eat a horse!”

Anna laughed.

“I cannot give you a horse, but I have some other food. Don’t move. I’ll bring it here. I’d like to give you my hospitality, but you must not go in my house, otherwise I’d have to report you. One must fulfill one’s promises.”

When the woman left the barn, Luis gave thanks for such an unexpected help. Whenever he had felt cornered, God had sent him somebody, an innkeeper, a woman like Lady Borland or Anna Bruckner, even a traitor, like Maurice. When Anna came back with a few black flour pies and a dish of hot broth, he ate voraciously and could not speak for a long time, while she took advantage of the opportunity to tell him about her life and enlarge the explanation of her attitude toward major Gérard.

“I was not born in this place, I come from Westphalia. Five years ago, I fell in love with a farmer from Rhineland, married him and came to live in this house. For a year we were very happy, but then a patrol came and took my husband to serve in Napoleon’s army. This country had been a part of France for just fourteen years. Neither my Hans nor me felt very patriotic. When he was killed in the war, my indifference toward Bonaparte became hate. I’d do anything to make him fall. That’s impossible, I’m too unimportant, but I can help with small things like this.”

“If you knew who you are helping,” thought Luis, “the importance which Napoleon gives the amulet, and the superstition which makes him associate it with the success or failure of his wars, you’d be very much surprised and would not consider your vengeance unreachable. But I must not tell you this.”

When he finished, Luis gave Anna the dish and cutlery, stood up and prepared to say good-bye. The woman went out with him to the farmyard.

“Go now, while it’s dark. In two hours, the sun will rise. Don’t trust the ways, walk across the fields in the night and hide by day. You’ll be safer, the less people see you. Take this bundle with food; it will help you. It’s not much, because I’m not rich, and keeping the farm alone is difficult, but I keep working in memory of my Hans: the farm was his life.”

Luis knew that offering money for the food would not be well received; therefore he just repeated his thanks. Before letting him go, however, Anna took his arm, brought him before the door of the house, and said laughing:

“You must stop before my door; otherwise I’d have to report you. One must fulfill one’s promises.”

The light of the moon let Luis notice that the woman was around thirty, but looked much older. With an impulse, he went near, threw his arms around her neck and kissed her on the cheek. Then he turned around, ran to the fence, jumped and followed on his way to the South.

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