The Furies (30 page)

‘—if we go there now,' Gabriel persisted, ‘the hospital staff will confirm my identity.'

In the silence that followed, broken only by the snap of burning timbers from the house opposite, the lieutenant lifted a hand to massage his chin between thumb and fingers. As he pondered their fate, Gabriel saw the sergeant lean towards him.

‘I think he's lying, Lieutenant—'

‘I'm not lying,' Gabriel said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. ‘I'm an Austrian military surgeon.'

‘He speaks German with a strange accent,' the sergeant continued, ignoring Gabriel's plea. ‘He has no papers and we caught him red-handed helping a member of the enemy escape.' His eyes flicked towards Elspeth. ‘Or he could be trying to desert. Either way, it's a capital offence.' Then he turned towards Elspeth again and this time his eyes did not leave her face. Gabriel saw the look and knew what he intended. Their only hope was for the lieutenant to remain in control of his men.

‘Lieutenant, my accent is Austrian.
Please
. We're on the same side. We're Allies, for heaven's sake. If we go to the hospital—'

Another blast of a steam whistle pierced the night, followed a moment later by a loud hiss, and a moment after that by the rhythmic sound of a train beginning to move.

Gabriel glanced across at Elspeth, who was looking towards the station with dismay. He knew she had picked up enough German to follow most of the conversation, and he could tell from the ashen look on her face that she fully understood what the sergeant – possibly all of them – had planned for her.

The lieutenant cleared his throat. ‘Under the regulations of the emergency powers invested in me,' he said to Gabriel, ‘I find you either guilty of desertion, or of helping a member of the enemy to escape. For both these offences the punishment is death.'

Gabriel blinked in disbelief as the lieutenant turned to the still scowling private. ‘Use the bayonet, Schneider. No more shooting. You've made enough noise as it is.'

A smile appeared on Schneider's face and looking at the malevolence in the private's eyes Gabriel felt a wave of fear run through his body. But his fear vanished in an instant when the lieutenant moved towards Elspeth; instinctively Gabriel stepped in front of her and stood between them. But there was a movement to his side, and as he turned towards it he saw a rifle butt approach his face: with a flash of light and an excruciating pain in the left side of his head, Gabriel found himself lying on his back on the hard cobbles, Schneider standing over him.

Trying to refocus his vision, he turned his head to see the sergeant kick at the door to the house behind him, which swung inward with a crack of splintering wood. And then – each man gripping her by an elbow –the lieutenant and the sergeant took hold of Elspeth and threw her through the shattered doorframe. In the light of the flames from the burning house, Gabriel saw the interior of the hallway with Elspeth sprawled on the floor, the lieutenant and the sergeant standing over her.

Gabriel tried to lever himself up off the cobbles, but the strength in his arms had gone and his vision was fading just as he heard the distinctive metallic click of a bayonet being fixed to a rifle. He looked up, and the last thing he saw before his vision faded completely was Schneider grinning as he pressed the tip of the bayonet into the notch at the base of Gabriel's throat…

***

Elspeth – dazed, panicked – lay on her back on the floorboards, looking up at the lieutenant, who towered over her, straddling her body with his feet. She managed to roll over onto her front and tried to crawl away, but he sat down on her waist and grabbed hold of her arms, and then turned her onto her back. She tried to wriggle free, but he leant forward and, gripping her wrists, pinioned her arms to the floor above her head. His face was close to hers; his breath rank. She turned her face away from his, but then felt another weight on her legs as the sergeant sat on her knees. Again she tried to twist and arch her body, but try as she might she could not move, was powerless under their combined mass and strength. When she felt the sergeant lift her skirt she closed her eyes and turned her head away, realising there was nothing more she could do. This surely could not be happening…

***

A sudden burst of light and noise exploded into the confined darkness of the tiny hallway as a rifle was fired from the doorway…

***

Up until this point Elspeth had managed to resist crying out. But at the deafening sound of the gunshot, and the shock of the lieutenant falling on top of her, she screamed at the top of her lungs, then arched her back to try to push him away again…and now she
was
able to free her herself and push him aside, sliding out from underneath him, gasping for breath as she sat up against the wall of the hallway.

She saw that both men were lying beside her, the lieutenant obviously dead – pieces of skull and brain fragments hung from a gaping hole in the back of his head – while the sergeant writhed on the floor behind him, clutching at the front of his neck, trying to hold back a torrent of blood, which spurted between his fingers.

Too shocked to do anything but stare, Elspeth watched him jerk and spasm, his movements weakening until eventually his hands fell away from his throat. He twitched once and then stopped moving completely. She could see that the bullet which had killed him must have passed all the way through his neck and out into the back of the lieutenant's head. But who had fired the shot? Squinting against the glare of the flames, she saw the outline of a huge, bear-like figure framed in the doorway. The figure stepped into the hallway, boots crunching on broken glass, and after a moment of silence Elspeth heard a deep, booming, bass voice.

‘Ah:
Virginesh
.'

***

Gabriel felt as if he was at the bottom of a deep ocean, struggling to reach the surface against the weight of water pushing him down. And then reality broke through as he became aware of a painful throbbing in the side of his head, hard cobblestones beneath his body and someone calling his name.

‘Gabriel. Wake up, Gabriel.'

He recognised Elspeth's voice before opening his eyes, and, when he finally managed to focus, saw her kneeling beside him.

‘Elspeth,' he croaked, suddenly remembering what had happened. ‘Are you alright?'

‘Yes, I'm fine,' Elspeth said, cupping his chin with one hand as she inspected a cut on his forehead. ‘But you took a bit of a knock.' She wiped a streak of blood away with her thumb.

‘I'm alright.' Behind her he could see three other figures outlined against the flames: chetniks, each man dressed in a sheepskin jacket, long leather boots, and tubular woollen hats. They stood over the body of Schneider, who lay in a widening pool of blood, staring open-eyed at the sky, his throat cut from ear to ear. The body of the other private lay nearby, his throat also cut.

Another Chetnik appeared behind Elspeth and stood over her, and Gabriel looked up in astonishment. ‘Luka?'

The big Chetnik grinned as he pointed at his left eye and spoke to Gabriel in pidgin German. ‘I see very good now,
Hirurga
. I see you creeping through streets and we follow you here. Then we hear shots and see German patrol. I see they will kill you and so…' He glanced at the body of Schneider, made a throat slitting gesture with his finger, and then turned back to Gabriel. ‘You helped me,
Hirurga
, so now I help you.' He turned to Elspeth. ‘And you too,
Virginesh
.' And then he laughed, clearly delighted at the turn of affairs.

Gabriel recalled seeing the chetnik patrol on his way to the women's hospital, not for one moment suspecting that Luka might be amongst them. Luka was still grinning as he extended a hand and pulled Gabriel to his feet, then clapped him gleefully on the shoulder. But a moment later, when another gunshot echoed from nearby, the grin vanished. ‘German patrols everywhere,' Luka muttered. ‘We must go.'

‘Can you take Dr Stewart with you?' Gabriel asked Luka. ‘She was meant to take the train to Krusevac but missed it.'

Luka frowned, then sagely nodded his shaggy head. ‘Yes. The rest of my Cheta waits near the station. We must leave now. Too dangerous, too many Germans.
Virginesh
cannot stay here. If Germans find, they rape, then kill. We walk south on railway line.'

‘To Krusevac?' Gabriel said. ‘To where the other Scottish women have gone?'

‘Yes.' He turned to Elspeth and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘
Virginesh
, you come with Cheta?' he said in Serbian, pointing towards the station.

Gabriel saw that Elspeth did not understand. ‘Luka will take you with him, Elspeth. It's your best chance of getting to safety—'

‘But you no come with us,
Hirurga
,' Luka interrupted. ‘Chetniks no take prisoners. They kill all Austrians. You must go back to hospital.'

‘Yes, I understand,' Gabriel replied. ‘But Dr Stewart will be safe with you? Women are safe in your Cheta?'

Luka grinned. ‘Yes,
Virginesh
will be safe. Another
Virginesh
in Cheta speaks good English.'

‘But Dr Stewart is not a
Virginesh
—' Gabriel began to say, but then flinched as two more gunshots were heard, sounding even closer than before. The other Chetniks looked uneasy and had already started to move towards the station, and Luka looked at Elspeth and motioned urgently to her that she should follow him.

She nodded her understanding, but as Luka hurried after the others Elspeth waited a moment and then lifted her hand to wipe away another streak of blood which had trickled from the wound on Gabriel's head. ‘You'll need a stitch in that when you get back to the hospital,' she said. ‘You will be careful going back, won't you?'

‘Don't worry about me,' he said. Despite the throbbing in his head he felt euphoric that Elspeth was going to be taken away from here. And the touch of her hand on the side of his face felt wonderful. ‘Just make sure you get safely to Krusevac.'

‘I will.'

He felt a strong urge to lean forward and kiss her goodbye, when Luka shouted from further up the avenue. ‘Must come now!'

I'd better go,' she said, giving him a last smile before she turned away to hurry after Luka.

And as he watched her vanish into the smoke and darkness, Gabriel wondered if he would ever see her again.

As she ran towards the station, Elspeth glanced back and for a moment could still see Gabriel standing in the middle of the avenue, shrouded in the smoky orange glow from the burning house. But then Luka shouted to her, urging her to run faster, and she was forced to look forwards once more. By
the time she arrived at the station and glanced back again, Gabriel had disappeared completely from view.

The station was cloaked in darkness and Elspeth crouched against a wall in the shadows outside while Luka disappeared through the station entrance with the other chetniks. A moment later he reappeared, accompanied by another figure only dimly visible in the moonlight. Luka motioned Elspeth forward. ‘
Virginesh
,' he quietly said as Elspeth went towards him. He turned to introduce the person standing behind him. ‘
Govori Dobro Engleski
.'

Elspeth knew enough Serbian to understand Luka's meaning: this was the sworn virgin he had mentioned, and that she spoke good English. But because of the dark it took Elspeth several seconds to take in the young chetnik standing before her: the leather boots, the bandolier of ammunition slung across the sheepskin-jerkin-covered chest, the cradled rifle. But instead of the usual tubular woollen hat that most Chetniks wore, this one wore a red beret. And the hair beneath the beret was a glossy jet black; the angular facial features distinctly familiar…

‘Anya?' Elspeth said, her voice raised in querying disbelief.

The figure frowned, brown eyes wide in astonishment as she leant towards Elspeth.

‘Ellie?'

They looked at each other for several long seconds, Elspeth aware of Luka staring at them both with a look of puzzled bemusement. And then Anya was leaning her rifle against the station building wall and stepping forward, throwing her arms around Elspeth and drawing her into a hug, and Elspeth was reeling with shock at the realisation that the person who was hugging her, this other sworn virgin that Luka had been so keen for her to meet, was actually Anya.

Her chin resting on Anya's shoulder, Elspeth saw Luka frown and then grin as he watched their embrace. Anya pulled away, her hands still on Elspeth's shoulders, shaking her head in incredulity. ‘I can't believe…what you doing here, Ellie?' she whispered, and even in the dark Elspeth could see the whites of Anya's eyes shining with joy and surprise.

But then another gunshot reverberated down the avenue and Anya quickly pulled away. She picked up her rifle and silently motioned Elspeth to follow her and Luka through the station entrance. He led them both through the deserted station building and out onto the platform, where Elspeth saw a dozen chetniks crouching in the shadows. The platform was dimly illuminated by two flickering oil lamps and littered with the debris of retreat: abandoned clothes and suitcases, empty cardboard boxes, children's toys. Elspeth crouched beside Anya as Luka dropped off the edge of the platform and down onto the railway line; presumably, Elspeth thought, to scout ahead and make certain it was safe. While they waited, Anya turned to her.

‘I still can't believe it, Ellie,' she whispered. ‘What are you doing in Serbia?'

But Elspeth was still lost for words, her mind spinning as she tried to come to terms with Anya's unexpected presence.

‘Are you working as a doctor?' Anya persisted. ‘We have heard good things about a women's hospital here in Kragujevac. Is that you?'

‘Y-yes…' Elspeth finally stuttered. ‘I've been working…in a hospital here.' She paused. ‘But with the Germans about to capture the town…we've been evacuated to Krusevac.' She was finding it difficult to speak coherently, could still hardly believe she was talking with Anya.

Anya frowned. ‘The train that left here a few minutes ago: I saw many women on it—'

‘Those are the women from the Scottish hospital,' Elspeth whispered, finally collecting her thoughts. ‘Vera and Sylvia would have been with them, except they drove down earlier—'

‘
Vera
and
…' Anya began to say, before clapping a hand over her own mouth when she realised she had spoken aloud, ‘Vera and Sylvia?' she whispered.

‘Yes. Sylvia's a ward sister and Vera's an ambulance driver,' Elspeth continued. ‘They've driven ahead to Krusevac—'

‘They're here? In Serbia?'

‘Yes – truly.' Elspeth grinned at the amazed look on Anya's face. ‘I would've gone with them, but I was delayed.'

Now it was Anya's turn to remain silently open-mouthed as Elspeth continued. ‘But if they'd come to the station, I doubt they would have recognised you,' she said, pointing at Anya's trousers. ‘You're dressed just like a man.'

Anya glanced down at her legs and then looked up and smiled. ‘There are many women in the Serbian army,' she said, ‘but I am the only woman fighter in a Cheta. The other Chetniks treat me like a man as long as I dress like them, fight like them, kill like them. We eat the same food. We live and die together.'

‘I still can't believe we've found each other,' Elspeth whispered. ‘But why didn't you tell us you're—'

A scuffling noise interrupted her, and Luka's head suddenly reappeared above the lip of the platform. He motioned for them to follow him, and Elspeth, Anya and the other Chetniks slipped off the platform edge and joined him on the railway line.

Luka led them a short distance along the track until they arrived at a signal box a little way outside the station; the interior of the box was lit from within, the light shining through the window illuminating another group of chetniks crouching on the embankment below. One of these men – a wiry fellow carrying a carbine and with a revolver tucked in his waistband – stood up and shook hands with Luka. Anya whispered to Elspeth that the man was Marco, the overall commander of the Cheta. He appeared surprised to see Elspeth, but Luka whispered in his ear and a moment later a smile appeared on Marco's face.

‘Ah.
Skotski damé Hirurga
,' he said, nodding to indicate he already knew of the Scottish women. Then, placing a hand on Elspeth's shoulder, he pointed down the embankment; in the dim light from the signal box Elspeth saw a figure lying on the grassy incline. She quickly scrambled down the bank, where she found a Chetnik – a youth of about eighteen – lying on the slope. The grass was slippery with blood and there was a perfectly round hole in the lower part of his left trouser leg. Marco and Anya were already by her side as she slid both index fingers inside the hole and ripped the material apart. There was a small entry wound in one side of his calf and a much wider exit hole opposite, which still oozed blood. She used a knife that Anya gave her to cut the trouser leg away, and then into strips, which she wrapped around the wound and tied in place. She saw the youth flinch at the pressure of the bandage, but it stopped the bleeding; it would do for the time being. With her support, he was able to stand and use his rifle as a crutch to hobble up the embankment. Marco whispered an order to the other chetniks and quietly the group began to march along the railway track.

It was a cold, clear night, the stars shining overhead, the trees sharply outlined by the moon on the horizon. However, at ground level it remained pitch black and now Elspeth understood why they were on the railway: it would have been impossible to travel on the road in the dark, but as long as they stayed within the metal rail tracks it would lead them south. Marco set a fast-paced march, which was undertaken in strict silence, Elspeth following the outline of Anya as best she could, her boots occasionally scuffing the rail to one side. It was disorienting trying to judge the distance between the sleepers and at times she stumbled and almost fell on the uneven surface. But she kept her balance and managed to keep pace with the others, although after more than an hour of hard walking and in spite of the cold she was perspiring from the exertion. Then Marco stopped and knelt on the track, and like the others she did the same, silently waiting, holding her breath, her ears alert for any sound.

A minute later she heard an owl hooting, and Marco responded by cupping his hands and replying twice with the same sound. A light appeared on the line ahead and swung to and fro for a moment before vanishing again. Marco stood up, and as the group moved forward Elspeth saw a figure holding an oil lamp shrouded with a hood, a faint orange glow faintly visible beneath the cover. Marco greeted the figure who silently led them down the embankment and into an adjoining field.

It was even darker down here and without the railway track to guide her Elspeth knew even less of what lay below her feet. But her lack of vision had heightened her other senses, and now she could hear and feel the crunch maize stalks below her boots that told her they were in a field of corn. They came to a hedgerow and the guide let them through a gap into another field. Ahead of her the stars suddenly disappeared as a high shadow loomed against the night sky. She heard a hinge creak as a door was opened and then felt herself swept forward into a warm dark interior with the pungent smell of animals and hay. The hinge creaked again as the door was closed and the hood covering the oil lamp was pulled away, flooding the room with light, and revealing they were inside a barn.

The tension of the past hour lifted in an instant, and Elspeth saw the Chetniks smiling with relief as they removed their bandoliers of ammunition and slumped onto bales of straw. Marco ordered two of the men on guard duty and gave instructions for sacking to be placed underneath the doors to prevent light from spilling outside. Elspeth flopped against a hay bale, removed her boots and stretched her legs out in front of her. She could see that most of the other Chetniks were also in various states of relaxation: taking food from their knapsacks, talking quietly amongst themselves, cleaning their weapons. But then she saw the young soldier with the calf wound lying on top of a hay bale opposite her and she padded across to him in her stockinged feet to untie the bandage around his leg.

The bleeding had stopped but the calf was badly swollen, the skin a dusky purple colour and firm to the touch, like cooked steak. She was troubled at how quickly infection had set in, but gave him a smile of encouragement and asked Anya if any of the men had surgical spirit or alcohol with them. One of the chetniks pulled a bottle of cognac from his knapsack, and even though she knew it would hurt him Elspeth poured some of the spirit directly into the wound, washing out as much dirt and debris as she could; the soldier flinched but made no sound. Then, with Anya and Marco watching her, she re-bound the leg with a scarf that another of the Chetniks gave her.

‘What you think?' Anya asked, after Elspeth had finished dressing the wound.

‘There's already infection. It might even be early gangrene.'

‘Gangrene?' Anya's eyes grew wide.

‘I'm afraid so. And there's not much I can do to stop it progressing. You should tell Marco he won't be able to walk tomorrow, so he must find him a wagon or some other transport.'

Anya translated for Marco, who nodded and then walked away to confer with Luka.

‘Every Chetnik has two hours of guard duty,' Anya said. ‘I must do mine at midnight, but now we have time to rest. We must be quiet, Ellie, but we can talk.'

She led Elspeth back to where she had left her boots and they sat beside each other, resting their backs against the hay bale behind them. Elspeth's mind was still racing from all that had happened to her that evening; fleeing the hospital with Gabriel, encountering the German patrol, their rescue by Luka. But the realisation that it was actually Anya sitting beside her gave her the most surreal feeling of all. ‘I still can't believe it's you, Anya,' Elspeth said. ‘Why, when we were in London, could you not tell us you were from this region?'

Anya gave a rueful shrug. ‘I am sorry I couldn't tell you.' She smiled. ‘But now we have time for me to explain everything.'

As they sat beside each other, bathed in the soft glow from the oil lamp, Anya told Elspeth her story: of how she had been born Anya Zerajic in a small village outside Sarajevo, one of three daughters to the village schoolteacher; and of how her cousin Bogdan Zerajic – a law student at the University of Belgrade and member of the nationalist organisation Young Bosnia – wanted to rid the country of their Austro-Hungarian occupiers.

‘Bogdan was very brave,' Anya told Elspeth. ‘Two years ago he tried to assassinate the Governor of Bosnia, General Varesanin, and when he failed he turned the pistol on himself rather than risk capture. The police burned his body, but kept his head on display in a museum.'

‘Oh, how awful,' said Elspeth, shocked at the barbarity.

‘And then Varesanin's successor, Oskar Potiorek, turned his skull into an ink pot.'

Elspeth's hands flew to her mouth in horror as Anya continued.

‘The Austrian Secret Service, the OSS, arrested and tortured several members of Bogdan's family. I was also at the University of Belgrade, studying English. I had also been a member of Young Bosnia, and the OSS wanted to bring me in for questioning. So I was forced to flee my country.'

‘I can imagine how difficult that must have been.'

Anya nodded. ‘So I fled: first to Paris and then London. In London I met Grace and joined the WSPU. But I knew the WSPU were watched by Special Branch and I was scared that if they find out I am Bosnian, they may tell OSS agents in the Austro-Hungarian embassy.'

Then she told Elspeth about the day she heard that Gavrilo Princip – an admirer of Bogdan and fellow member of Young Bosnia – had assassinated Franz Ferdinand.

‘The happiest day of my life, Ellie, because we avenge Bogdan. Now I think war will come. But I say nothing. I keep quiet. And when war begins I decide to go home because I want to fight for my country.'

‘So that's why you disappeared,' Elspeth whispered with dawning realisation. ‘It wasn't anything to do with the WSPU stopping the arson campaign?