get them out.”
“Thank you, Franz.” She swallowed hard, pushing away a sudden wave of terror, of fear, of helplessness. Such waves often came unexpectedly, washing through her body with physical force that dizzied her. In those moments she’d learned to steady her breathing, banish all thoughts, and pray. Dwell on the Lord. Abide.
Franz moved his stool away from the bars, back to where it normally sat when others were on watch. His shift was coming to an end. The next time she saw him would be the last, when they would come at dawn to escort her to Tir National.
She was weary of the emotional battles. She wanted to lie down, to sleep, to escape from the doubts that gnawed at her faith, her peace, and her sanity. But instead a thought came to her that helped. She turned to Franz.
“Franz,” she said gently, “tomorrow, after they come for me, this will be left behind again.” She lifted the Bible. “Will you take it and keep it as your own? read it?”
“It’s in English.”
She’d forgotten the difference in languages. “Can you get a German translation? Look at the areas that are underlined in here and then read them in your Bible. Will you do that for me, Franz?”
He looked at her, then at the book, and at last he nodded. She believed he would do it. Honesty was part of duty, and that she knew he did very well.
41
You may smash our buildings, crush our bridges, destroy our men. But our spirit goes on.
La Libre Belgique
* * *
Dawn was an hour away. Edward sat in a wagon outside the prison. He hadn’t slept more than a few minutes at a time all night and yet had no trouble staying awake now. He knew what would happen if he failed. He must not fail.
Edward’s mother had been taken to the meeting place with Father Clemenceau. She, at least, would escape before the sun rose this day, even if the rest of them never made it.
The wind stung Edward’s eyes and ruffled a bit of hair sticking out from under his spiked helmet as he held the reins on the horse before the wagon. He had to admit the Major was a formidable source. He was intelligent and thorough, forcing Edward to face all the possibilities—including killing another human being.
Edward had been amazed at the Major’s willingness to be part of such a plan. He was bold, even ruthless. And yet that ruthlessness was tempered with caution. If all went well without any deviation, they could succeed without a shot fired. He’d wanted Edward to be prepared but made it clear he hoped his treason did not stretch to murdering his countrymen.
The horse Edward directed was one of the finest specimens left in Belgium, and it had cost a hefty chunk of Henri’s money. The animal was worth every penny, as strong as any brewer’s horse. Smaller, admittedly, but faster. And that’s exactly what they would need if anything went wrong.
The wagon had once been a wooden flatbed, now fitted with iron bars so that it looked like a cage on wheels—something a circus might bring to town to show its most dangerous animals. But now it held Henri, the Major, and a coffin. The Germans were so very efficient.
He pulled up to the gate at the castle prison in Vilvorde. Despite warmer weather the day before, recent snow had been cleared to allow the doors to swing easily back and forth. The hooves made an odd tapping noise against the cobblestones. Edward had impaled nails into the very edge of each unguis to guarantee the traction they would need later.
The first test: Edward’s uniform. Amazing what money could buy. Edward now wore the identity of a Vizefeldwebel, complete with the worsted braid on the overcoat collar to show the NCO rank. It was even a perfect fit. Finding one for Henri had been a bit trickier and more expensive. He was now a Feldwebel, and it had been decided that he would accompany the Major inside the prison to retrieve Isa. Edward wanted to be the one to go inside, but the Major had refused. He wouldn’t take the risk of Edward being recognized after his visit as a priest.
The sentry at the door saluted and, as Edward anticipated, never looked him in the eye. He accepted the papers—papers the Major had taken such risk to obtain, stolen from none other than Hauptmann von Eckhart—and then opened wide the gate to