The Longest Winter (12 page)

‘One could point to Diogenes, who lived in a tub,’ said James.

‘Was that civilized?’ said Anne. ‘Or uncomfortable?’

‘That was mortification of the flesh for the purification of the soul,’ said Sophie.

‘Poor soul,’ said Anne.

‘This is hardly mortifying, is it?’ said Sophie, dissecting her trout.

‘It is for the trout,’ said James. He engaged in light conversation with the baronesses, but felt the silence of the four men was a heavy, brooding one. They were drinking endless cups of coffee and saying not a word. The man Dobrovic referred to his tin pocket watch from time to time. At the finish of the meal James rose.

‘I must pay,’ he said and went inside. Joja woke up and stood up. He brushed his moustache and smiled.

‘You wish?’ he said.

‘How much?’ asked James.

Joja totted it all up on his fingers. He named an amount which James thought incredibly cheap. It brought Joja a handsome tip. He was more than happy.

‘It was good?’ he said.

‘Very good,’ said James, ‘and thank you.’

‘You go to Jajce now? Yes, very nice there. You go now.’

‘We weren’t thinking of that, only of returning to Ilidze.’

‘Ilidze, that is nice too,’ said Joja, ‘you come back and see me another day, yes? Make you more good food. Ah, you are a fortunate young man.’

‘You think so?’ James liked the fat man.

‘Beautiful,’ smiled Joja and spread his hands. James knew what he meant and patted the proprietor on the shoulder. Joja bustled him out, anxious apparently to see him on his way with his young ladies. Outside a horse-drawn cart had pulled up and a man was dismounting. An earnest-looking man in a dark suit and wide-brimmed black hat. Dobrovic went to meet him. They shook hands. James received a little shock. The newcomer was Boris Ferenac. Ferenac saw him while his ears listened to Dobrovic. He said something to Dobrovic. Dobrovic rattled off a long sentence. Ferenac pushed him aside and strode to the tables. Sophie was finishing the last of her wine.

‘Lazar,’ said Ferenac, ignoring James. The
man Lazar got up and Ferenac pushed him inside the café, then turned savagely on him. ‘You fool,’ he said, ‘with your mouth as loud as a donkey’s – a German donkey’s.’

‘German – that was for friend Shuckmeister’s benefit,’ said Lazar, ‘he fumbles about in our language. And how was I to know that man was behind me? But it was nothing he took any notice of.’

‘Idiot,’ hissed Ferenac, ‘he’s a man who’d take a lot of notice. He’s heard things before and asked a child about me. He’s supposed to be a teacher—’

‘He’s an artist,’ said Joja.

‘Oh, so now he’s an artist, is he?’ said Ferenac and sucked at his teeth. Life, it seemed, was no longer a matter of secretive smiles. It had become troublesome. ‘He knows the son of Count Lundt-Hausen, the police superintendent of Vienna. I saw them together. Do you like the sound of that? I don’t. He’s drawn a likeness of Dobrovic and can no doubt do the same with the rest of you. But not with me. He knows me. He and I have met. This is a coincidence which is perhaps not a coincidence. And those damn women with him, they’ve been nosing about, Dobrovic says.’

‘We weren’t going to let them go, not until you came,’ said Lazar.

‘Look,’ said Joja, ‘don’t make trouble, nobody keeps healthy on trouble, and they’re nice people.’

‘Shut up,’ said Ferenac. ‘If they’re informers there has to be trouble and we’re taking no
chances with the day so close. I don’t want the police tapping me on the shoulder in Ilidze. Lazar, you go for Avriarches. He’ll take care of the women. I’ll look after the informer. We will make it seem as if Avriarches took all three of them.’

‘Informer, bah,’ said Joja, ‘he’s an artist, he’s been drawing everything. It’s madness to encourage Avriarches to take those young women, you’ll bring the whole Austrian army and police force down on us.’

‘Shut up,’ said Ferenac again. ‘A man who was a teacher with friends in high places, and who now says he’s an artist hasn’t come here at a time like this looking for things to paint. He’s looking for us, for me. Well, he has found me. He’ll wish he hadn’t. Off you go, Lazar.’

Lazar slipped out. Joja looked worried. Outside Anne and Sophie were ready to go. They were putting up their parasols and James was fidgeting to get them moving. Ferenac came out and interposed himself.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked James.

‘I wondered if you’d recognized me,’ said James amiably. ‘It’s a small world sometimes. Are you living in Bosnia now?’

‘What is it to you where I live?’ said Ferenac. ‘But now we’ve met again, sit down and we’ll talk. Joja will bring us coffee.’

‘I’ve had coffee, thanks all the same,’ said James, ‘and we have to get back to Ilidze.’

‘Ilidze?’ Ferenac’s eyes narrowed. He gestured. There were three other men now that Lazar had
gone. The village was quieter than ever as they moved to bar the way to James and the baronesses. ‘You,’ he said to the sisters, ‘go inside.’

Sophie drew herself up very coolly and said, ‘I am not in your charge, neither is my sister.’

‘Goodbye, Ferenac,’ said James. He gave Anne his sketch book, then took both girls by the arm and moved forward, turning to avoid the men. The men shifted their position, presenting a more solid barrier. ‘Don’t be damned silly,’ said James.

Anne trembled. Something very unpleasant seemed to be happening. James swore to himself. He felt he knew what it was all about now that Ferenac had arrived. It was all about assassination. The Archduke Franz Ferdinand was in Bosnia for the Austrian army manoeuvres. A good archduke is a dead one.

‘You’ll be wise to do as you’re told,’ said Ferenac. Joja came out and said something. ‘Shut up,’ said Ferenac and jabbed his elbow into the proprietor’s round stomach. Joja gasped. ‘You, my friend,’ said Ferenac, ‘get these women out of the way. Inside. Nothing will happen to them as long as they’re sensible.’

‘Let us pass, please,’ said Anne bravely, ‘then nothing will happen to you.’

James squeezed her arm. Sophie was becoming icy, looking at Ferenac as if his species could not be classified.

‘You’ll be carried inside if you don’t walk,’ said Ferenac.

Sophie felt James tensing with anger. She did
not want him to do anything foolish. She said, ‘We’ll go inside for a moment, Anne. Come along.’ She turned and took Anne into the tavern with her. James followed in seething fury. Inside Joja stood pulling at his moustache, uneasily avoiding the eyes of the baronesses.

‘I am sorry,’ he said to James, ‘it is not—’

‘For the last time, will you shut up?’ said Ferenac, crowding in with his men.

‘For your own sake,’ said James, ‘let me tell you that various people in Ilidze know we’re here. They’ll expect us back this afternoon.’

‘Expectations, expectations, ah, they burn in every breast,’ said Ferenac. ‘Well, there’s time enough.’

‘For what?’ asked James.

‘For a solution.’ Ferenac gestured again. ‘Take them upstairs, all of them.’

‘You are the silliest man,’ said Anne.

Ferenac, stung, shouted at her, ‘You’ll be sorry you said that, I’ll show you who will feel the silliest in the end! Go upstairs, all of you! Do you hear?’

To Anne’s horror a revolver appeared. It glinted in the dim tavern, its barrel snouting from the hand of Dobrovic. He gestured with it and the girls, with James, went through a tiny kitchen, full of heat from a wood-burning stove, and along a narrow passage to a staircase. They climbed to a tiny landing, the stairs creaking. Dobrovic, following on, pushed them into a cluttered bedroom which smelt of old wool and feathers. The angled ceiling was low and there
was one small and not very clean window.

Dobrovic said, ‘Stay here and keep quiet.’ He locked the door on them and departed. They heard the stairs creak as he descended.

Sophie, looking around the room, said, ‘This is not the better kind of hotel.’

‘Then James must complain to the management,’ said Anne.

James knew they were both shaken, although they could not have been cooler. He went to the window. It overlooked the rear of the tavern. Chickens scratched around on the hard brown earth. A well stood in the centre of what might have been a garden but looked more like a large, scruffy yard. It was bounded by a high stone wall against which peach trees clung. Beyond the wall were rows of the ubiquitous Bosnian plum trees.

‘Damnation,’ he said. He turned and inspected the room. A brass bedstead took up half the space. On it was an old feather mattress and odds and ends of junk. A table supported a bowl and pitcher and more junk.

‘Those men, they’re mad, aren’t they?’ said Anne.

‘Fanatics,’ said James, thinking of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

‘What are we going to do?’ asked Sophie.

‘Frankly, I don’t know,’ said James. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Damnation,’ he said again.

‘Now, James,’ said Anne. She was alarmed, she was not yet scared. She believed in the goodness of people.

James regarded the view from the window again. Beyond the stone wall on the right he glimpsed a corner of the church. He tried the window. The catch was rusty, the frame dry, the paint peeling. But the window opened. It was just large enough to let them out, except that there was a drop to the ground of about fifteen feet. A man came out from the back of the tavern and threw scraps from a bowl. It was Joja. The chickens rushed and scurried and pecked. Joja did not look up and James did not call. He felt Joja was well aware of him.

‘What did that man Ferenac mean by a solution?’ asked Anne.

‘An answer to a problem. I think we’re the problem.’ James closed the window as Joja disappeared. ‘I suspect they’re going to keep us here until the Archduke Franz Ferdinand has left Bosnia.’

‘What is the archduke to do with it?’ asked Sophie. ‘And what are we to do with them?’

‘I think they’re after the archduke,’ said James. He could have said he also thought they intended for the archduke to leave Bosnia in a coffin, but the girls were worried enough. ‘No, I’m not serious, of course.’

‘Yes, you are,’ said Sophie quietly, ‘you know something.’

‘I only know we’ve got to get out of here.’

The stairs creaked. Someone was coming up. Anne swallowed and Sophie steeled herself.

‘It’s Joja,’ said James.

‘Joja?’ said Anne.

‘The proprietor. Ferenac called him that. He’s weighty on those stairs.’

The creaking stopped. The landing sighed.

‘Quick, please.’ It was a whisper outside the door. James pressed his ear to the panel.

‘We’re listening,’ he said.

‘They have gone,’ whispered Joja, ‘they have seen your car and mean to take it away. But one is still here. I will put a ladder to your window. But when you leave take it, hide it, it must not be seen or it will mean trouble for me. The wall, there is an opening to the church. Go, run, but do not cross the river and go up into the hills, go along the valley by the side of the river.’

‘Good, Joja,’ said James, ‘we love you.’

‘It is bad, bad.’

The landing squeaked, the stairs groaned. James continued to listen. He heard no voices downstairs. The man left behind was probably sitting outside. Joja would not have come up otherwise. If the man on guard was the pallid one, the one with the gun, he would be dangerous.

They could only wait. They stood by the window. In a little while they heard a small sound. They were too tense to speak, but Sophie managed a little nervous smile as James gave her an encouraging one. Beneath the window outside something scraped the wall. He opened the frame. The top of a ladder appeared. He looked down and glimpsed Joja disappearing. There was no time to waste.

‘Sophie?’

‘You go first, that is best,’ said Sophie calmly.

‘Yes,’ said James. He put a leg over the sill. Both legs. He turned and found a rung with his right foot. Anne held the top of the ladder. He went down. The ladder was smooth and he slid most of the way in his haste. He planted his foot on the bottom rung and looked up.

‘You, Anne,’ said Sophie.

Anne went, agile and quick in her urgency. Sophie was out and on the ladder before Anne was halfway down. They left hats and parasols behind but took their handbags. James had left his sketchbook. The girls reached the ground in a froth of white underskirts. Quickly he hauled the ladder down. It was heavy. He took it to the wall and the chickens scattered as the girls followed him. He found the gap in the wall amid the peach trees, a triangular opening where the stone had crumbled away. He pushed the ladder through. He had to do that for Joja. He climbed, went through the gap, pulled the ladder after him and placed it in the long grass against the wall. He reached into the gap, helping the sisters up and through.

Someone shouted. The man Dobrovic was running from the back door of the tavern.

They hared away, the girls picking up their skirts and flying. Over hard ground and around bushes to the church. There was a wall there too and an old green door. It opened as James pushed. He bundled the girls through. Dobrovic came on in pounding chase. James went through the doorway and nipped behind the door itself. He watched through the crack as Dobrovic came
running. Sophie and Anne turned. James gestured to them to go on. Dobrovic saw their whipping dresses and legs through the open door. He shouted again, his expression furious. He rushed at the opening and as he reached it James crashed the door against him. The impact of solid wood against face and body was traumatic. The door shuddered and Dobrovic dropped as if poleaxed, blood pouring from his nose. It gave James a feeling of giddy elation. That was a blow struck for fair virginity if you like! He turned to run, checked, stooped and thrust his hand into the bulging side pocket of Dobrovic’s jacket. He brought out the shining blue revolver, thrust it inside his shirt and went after the girls. He caught them up, they flew over the church path and out into the street. The village was as silent as a graveyard. And every door was shut tight.

Nobody wanted trouble. James sensed the danger of knocking on those closed doors for help. Joja had said to escape up the valley. They crossed the street and took a worn, stony path winding down to the river. Sophie and Anne slipped and scuffled in their white, leather-soled shoes. James put his arms around their waists and took them downwards in a headlong flight in which six feet hopped, skipped and jumped.