She heard little from the cells they passed, except occasionally someone said her name as a salute.
When she stepped outside for the first time in what suddenly seemed an eternity, she relished the fresh, cold wind. She was alive.
A cage sat on the back of a wagon, and she gave a quick look to the driver. But he sat with the traditional stiffness of most German soldiers, staring straight ahead. Were his shoulders as broad as Edward’s? Should she even hope for such a thing?
Isa got in first, her gaze drawn to the coffin. She sat opposite it, even as Henri boarded and sat atop it as if it were nothing more than a bench. The Major followed with surprising ease and slammed the door shut with a bang.
The wagon lurched forward and she nearly lost her seat—not from speed but rather from her own instability. In a moment they stopped at the front gate. She wanted to talk to the Major, ask him what was happening, but dared not say a word. She would not do or say anything to endanger them.
The sentry at the gate waved them outward, and Isa watched as the driver slowed but never stopped. In the next moment they were outside the last set of bars that had separated her from freedom, except for the ones on this very wagon.
Prison torches fell behind as the driver flicked the reins for the horse to pick up the pace down the narrow, snow-covered street, the only road leading from the prison. On either side of the road were deep ruts, so that only the middle appeared safe to travel.
She looked at the Major at last, wondering if he might speak, but he raised a hand for her to remain silent.
Only minutes from the prison, headlights shot at them from ahead and the driver pulled on the reins.
“Halt! You will halt!”
Isa looked for the source of the command. At first she wasn’t sure the driver would obey. A black motorcar with German flags affixed above its headlights stood crooked across the road before them, barring passage.
In a moment Isa saw the man who issued the cry. She held her breath even as, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Major turn away, taking a seat on the coffin so Henri blocked him from view of the approaching man.
Hauptmann Rudiger von Eckhart approached, and he had a look of a madman. Or a drunkard.
“You are early! This was not to take place for another hour. What is the meaning of this?”
The driver spoke in a gravelly voice in perfect German. “Orders, sir. Only following orders. She’s the first of three today.”
“Yes, and it was to begin at dawn, and they were to be transported together. It is not dawn!”
Isa could not stand the sight of the Hauptmann shouting and standing there without even a coat. “It doesn’t matter, does it, Hauptmann? An hour, more or less? What’s that in a lifetime?”
“Fräulein Lassone!” He rushed to the side of the cage, pulling on it and shaking the entire wagon as if it would open. “It is unacceptable that the orders have been changed. You were to have until dawn—”
She nodded but couldn’t guess if he saw her. Suddenly she heard the whip and the horse bolted forward. She flew along behind, this time unseated and landed with a thud over Henri’s massive legs. The Major skidded beside her, except his wooden leg had caught in one of the bars and it swung him back to the edge of the cage like a life-size doll.
Fighting to regain her seat with Henri’s help, she looked at the Major. “What is going on?”
He too was holding on, for the horse hadn’t stopped picking up speed. “That’s Edward,” he said, taking one hand off the bars for the barest moment to point at the driver.
Isa’s heart soared.
42
In the distance we hear the beat of the guns, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, sometimes steady. It is the heartbeat of this war.
La Libre Belgique
* * *
Edward shouted the horse to a run, the animal’s footing sure on the icy road thanks to the nails. They dashed down the deserted, slippery streets in the cold predawn hour.
“Halt! Halt!”
Edward ignored the shouts. No simple command would stop him from his destination. Sentries scattered from their huddle around a fire barrel, some yelling to make chase. Edward slapped the whip again, harder when he heard the pop and whistle of gunfire. The foot soldiers