sleep in one of the lower dungeons. No one except the Baron and Florentyna could be quite sure when Wladek slept, as he was always there at the end of every shift to supervise the servants moving on. Food was distributed every tvielve hours. The guards would hand over a skin of goats' milk, black bread, millet and cccasionally some nuts which Wladek would divide by twenty - eight, always giving two portions to the Baron without ever letting him, know. The new occupants of the dungeons, their placidity rendered into miserable stupefaction by incarceration, found nothing strange in a situation that had put a nine - year - old in control of their lives.
Once Wladek had each shift organised, he would return to the Baron in the sinaller dungeon. Initially he expected guidance from him, but the fixed gaze of his master was as implacable and comfortless in its own way as were the eyes of the const.int succession of German guards. The Baron had never once spoken from the moment he had been subjected to captivity in his own castle. His beard had grown long and matted on his chest and his strong frame was beginning to dwindle into frailty. The once proud look had been replaced with one of resignation. Wladek could scarcely remember the well - loved voice of his patron, and accustomed himself to the thought that he would never hear it again. After a while, he complied with the Baron's unspoken wishes by remaining silent in his presence.
When he had lived in the safety of the castle, Wladek had never thought of the previous day with so much occupying him from hour to hour. Now he was unable to remember even the previous hour, because nothing ever changed, Hopeless minutes turned into hours, hours into days, and then months that he soon lost track of. Only the arrival of food, darkness or light indicated that another twelve hours had passed, while the intensity of that light, and its eventual giving way to storms, and then ice forming on the dungeon walls, melting only when a new sun appeared, heralded each season in a manner that Wladek could never have learned from a nature study lesson. During the long nights Wladek became even more aware of the stench of death that permeated even the farthest comers of the four dungeons, alleviated occasionally by the morning sunshine, a cool breeze, or the most blessed relief of all, the return of rain.
At the end of one day of unremitting storms, Wladek and Florentyna took advantage of the rain by washing themselves in a puddle of water which formed on the stone floor of the upper dungeon. Neither of them noticed that the Baron's eyes were following Wladek with interest as he removed his tattered shirt and rolled over like a dog in the relatively clean water, continuing to rub himself until white streaks appeared on his body. Suddenly, the Baron spoke.
Vladek' - the word was barely audible - 'I cannot see you clearly,' he said, the voice cracking. 'Come here.'
Wladek was stupefied by the sound of his patron's voice after so long a silence and didn't even look in his direction. He was immediately sure that it heralded the incipience of the madness which already held two of the older servants in its grip.
Vome here, boy? Wladek obeyed fearfully, and stood before the Bar - on, who narrowed his enfeebled eyes in a gesture, of intense concentration as he groped towards the boy. He ran his finger over Wladek's chest and then peered at him incredulously.
Wadek, can you explain this small deforrnity?'
'No, sir,' said Wladek, feeling embarrassed. 'It has been with me since birth. My foster - mother used to say it was the mark of God the Father upon me.'
'Stupid woman. It is the mark of your own father,' the Baron said softly, and lapsed into silence for some minutes.
Wladek remained standing in front of him, not moving a muscle.
When at last the Baron spoke again, his voice was br1sL 'Sit down, boy.'
Wladek obeyed immediately., As he sat down, he noticed once again the heavy band of silver, now hanging loosely round the Baroes wrist. A shaft of light through a crack in the wall made the magnificent engr - aving of the Rosnovski coat of arms glitter in the darkness of the dungeon.
'I do not know how long the Germans intend to keep us locked up here. I thought at first that this war would