Young bloods - Scarrow Simon - Страница 73

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'That's better!' the corporal grinned. 'Who are you then?'

The child's lips fluttered a moment before he replied softly. 'Please, sir, I'm Philippe.'

'Philippe… Are you hungry, Philippe?'

The child licked his lips and nodded.

'And how about the rest of your friends? Come on, all of you. Sit over here by the fire and you can have some stew.'

They crept out of the shadows like ghosts and sat on the grass staring at the cooking pot.

One of the soldiers crossed himself. 'Jesus, look at them. No more than skin and bones.'

'Well, don't just stand there,' the corporal said quietly. 'Give them something to eat.'

As the soldiers began to share their food with the children, more shapes appeared from the gloom, older children, adults and a handful of old men and women. All of them gaunt and pathetically silent as they held out their hands for the hunks of bread that the corporal was distributing from the back of the detachment's supply wagon.

As soon as he was aware of the corporal's actions Napoleon strode across to the wagon. 'What's going on here? Those are military supplies. Stop that at once.'

The corporal paused and around him the villagers turned to the young lieutenant with expressions of dread and despair. Napoleon heard a faint keening noise in someone's throat. He pushed through the crowd to the back of the wagon. 'Corporal, put that bread sack back in the wagon.'

The man stared back at him for a moment, before he climbed down and stood in front of the officer. 'Sir, these people are starving.'

'I gave you an order, Corporal.'

There was a pained look in the man's eyes as he struggled with his conscience, then he gestured to the side of the wagon. 'You should have a look at something, sir.'

'What? What do you mean?' Napoleon glared at the man. 'Obey my order.'

'Sir, please, come with me.'Without waiting for a response the corporal turned the corner of the wagon and Napoleon strode after him, anger coursing through his veins.

'What is the meaning of this, Corporal? I told you-'

'Sir, look.'The corporal pointed to the base of the front wheel. At first Napoleon thought that the man was pointing to a pile of rags.Then as his eyes adjusted to the faint light cast from a nearby fire he saw the face of a young woman, little more than a girl. She stared back at him, eyes bright with terror. She was dressed in a tattered dress that hung open to her waist. A small bundle was clutched to her breast, which hung down like an empty purse.

'He won't feed,' she whispered hoarsely. 'I can't get him to feed…'

The corporal squatted down beside the girl and gently pressed a lump of bread into her hand. 'There. Eat that. He can't feed until you've eaten something. Eat that and try again.'

She stared at the corporal, then her eyes flickered down to the bread in her hand and she slowly raised it to her mouth and began to chew on the corner, gently rocking her baby as her jaws worked on the crust in her mouth. The corporal eased himself back to his feet and, taking Napoleon's arm, he gently steered his officer back to the end of the wagon.

'I've got a daughter her age.'

Napoleon swallowed. 'The infant. Will it live?'

The corporal gave him a blank stare. 'He's already dead, sir.'

'Dead?' He felt sick. 'Does she know?'

The corporal shook his head. 'Poor girl's half mad with starvation. I doubt she'll last much longer herself.'

'I see.' Napoleon nodded. Inside he felt a vast black pit of despair opening up and threatening to overwhelm him. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes and fought for control of his emotions. But all around him the skeletal shapes of the villagers huddled in the red hue of the campfires, silent in their suffering as they shared the soldiers' food. Napoleon swallowed and turned back to the corporal. 'Feed them. Feed them all. Make sure they all get a decent meal.'

'Yes, sir.'The corporal looked relieved.

'No one should have to live like this,' Napoleon said.

'No, sir. It ain't right.'

Napoleon shook his head slowly. 'No. It's not right. It's… intolerable.'

The detachment moved off at first light, while the villagers were still asleep. They crept out of the village like thieves making their escape from the scene of a crime and Napoleon willed his men on, anxious to leave the terrible place behind him and get as far away from the scene as possible.

They stopped at the pillared entrance to the drive that led up to the chateau where the captain and his brother had spent the night. After an hour and half's wait the two officers came riding down the drive.

Captain Des Mazis nodded a greeting to Napoleon. 'Well done, Lieutenant. That's saved us some time.'

'Yes, sir.'

The men stared at the mounted officers with sullen expressions and Alexander edged his horse closer to Napoleon and leaned down to speak so that his words would not be overheard.

'What's happened? They look like someone's taken a shit in their cooking pot.'

Napoleon stared back at Alexander. He wanted to tell him everything.To share the knowledge of the terrible suffering in the village they had left on the road behind them. Then he glanced past Alexander, up the drive to where the steeply pitched roof of the chateau gleamed above the tops of the trees, and he knew that the young man would not understand.

'It's nothing. They just want to get this over and return to barracks.'

They reached Seurre in the late afternoon to discover that the local militia had already quashed the riot. At first Napoleon felt disappointed that they had arrived too late to witness the excitement. As the column tramped down the nearly deserted streets of Seurre he glanced up at the tall facades of the houses of wealthy merchants. Here and there, in the windows, he saw people watching them. There was anxiety in some faces, relief in others and Napoleon sensed that the issues that had caused the rioting had not yet been resolved. This impression strengthened when the detachment passed through a working-class area of densely packed slums. Every door was closed, every window shuttered and there was no sign of life at all. Further on, the column marched past the blackened remains of a row of warehouses. The air was acrid with the stench of the ruins and thin trails of smoke still billowed into the air. There were some burned-out houses; other buildings had shattered doors and windows. Broken and discarded spoils littered the cobbled streets and every so often there were dark patches of dried blood.

The colonel in charge of the militia was waiting under an awning in one corner of the town square. He rose to greet the new arrivals with a salute. Captain Des Mazis gave orders for the men to fall out and prepare their tents for the night, before he led his officers over to the awning for a formal exchange of pleasantries.

'Fine timing, you fellows!' the colonel boomed at the new arrivals. 'We were just about to set the seal on this unfortunate affair.'

'What do you mean, sir?' Captain Des Mazis responded.

'Why, we have the scoundrels responsible for this uprising! My men found 'em skulking in a coal cellar this very afternoon. Hauled 'em out, had some sergeants beat a confession out of them. Just enough to stand up in a quick drumhead court. I passed sentence not an hour ago. They're to be hanged at dusk.' He nodded across the square to where three men were standing in chains under armed guard. 'Should make for an interesting entertainment after dinner!' He laughed good-humouredly. 'One of my boys is already taking bets on who lasts the longest.You'll get poor odds on that boney one.'

The colonel entertained the officers to a fine dinner at long tables arranged in the shade of the trees. The very best wines and meats of Seurre were set before his guests, but Napoleon had a clear view across the square towards the condemned men from where he sat, and could not enjoy his meal.As the final course was cleared away, some stewards set up several rows of chairs in front of an ancient oak tree in a small park in the centre of the square. A sergeant approached with three lengths of hemp, unravelled them and tossed them over a stout limb projecting out from the trunk of the oak.Then he set to work tying a noose at the end of each trailing rope.

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