North (45 page)

"Was? was?
. . . what is it?"

Between two hiccups he gets it out. . .

"Revizor! . . . Revizor!"

He's trying to tell us who it is . . . we understand . . . the one we'd been expecting . . . so they'd met . . . just like that in the middle of the plain . . . or in Tribitz . . . while we're trying to figure it out, the women are making tracks . . . climbing the other side of the gully . . . who werey they? . . . we hadn't recognized them . . . but Kracht had! . . . sure! . . . it's the prostitutes! the ones who'd called us all kinds of names! . . . in Moorsburg . . . they'd taken it on the lam . . . sick of the sewers and garbage cans! . . . sick of the sidewalks! sick of obeying! . . . they'd knocked out a postman, the only one left in Moorsburg, thrown all his letters in the sewer . . . no more treatment! no more injections! . . . total mutiny! 

Boom! boo-oom!
. . . it was rumbling and thundering as bad at the bottom of that gully as in our tower or Le Vig's cell at the manor . . . the whole plain was shaking . . . north, south, and west . . . to give you an idea what was going on in Berlin! I didn't see how anything could be left . . . ah, Faustus! . . . ah, our Steinbock! . . . even the Chancellery, the
Führer
's bunker, must be flatter than a pancake . . . with that
boo-oom
day and night! . . . Lili, Le Vig, and me get talking about it . . . and while we're talking, they all skedaddle, all those ferocious camfire girls . . . they hadn't expected us . . . I could see them running . . . their turn! . . . the ass-peddlers! . . . the mutinous poxies! . . . far away by now . . . only one was hanging back . . . "brutes! . . . brutes!" she yells at us . . . she'd stayed behind on purpose . . . "clunks! . . . cabbage-heads!". . . her endearments came to us on the wind . . . if we hadn't turned up they'd have finished them off . . . the
Revizor
and the
Rittmeister
. . . they'd have roasted them with ther other meat! . . . the two of them there in the mud were in bad shape . . . I saw they'd never be able to get up . . . they were still hiccuping . . . snatches of words, trying to talk . . . the prostitutes thought they'd been turned in . . . they thought the count and the
Revizor
had sent for the
feldgendarme
. . . the major tells us . . . still in snatches . . . how he'd got lost . . . instead of heading straight south he'd thought it wiser to make a flanking movement and surprise the Russian Army near Potsdam . . . he'd bumped into these whores, who had just escaped . . . that same night! . . . they d dropped everything! . . . hospital, garbage cans, and postman! . . . they were heading west! Hamburg Belgium, the Rhine! . . . they didn't care how they got there . . . they'd heard there was food in the west . . . no clear idea of the future, but one thing they knew . . . no more street cleaning . . . no more hospital and no more injections! . . . when they saw us coming, they thought they'd be locked up in barracks again! . . . that's what had them steamed up . . . besides, they were busy eating! . . . those enormous chunks of roast meat! . . . straight out of the fire! . . . that was the smoke the cop had seen! and made us head for! . . . now he wanted to know all about it, he wasn't a
feldgendarme
for nothing! . . . how they'd got captured . . . the two of them . . . first Count von Leiden . . . it was hard for him even to jibber . . . we sit him up . . . he's not very happy that way either . . . he's cold, he's shivering . . . the other guy too, but less . . . but now the inquest! . . . they'd beaten them bad . . . with pick handles . . . with shovel handles . . . and cook pots . . . they'd snagged everything from their camp, everything they needed for their bivouac . . . too much stuff to tote through the fields . . . here they hadn't needed it . . . they'd found this gully with a pool of water at the end . . . a ready-made camp! . . . except for the firewood . . . I hadn't seen many trees . . . they must have hauled them quite a ways . . . how long had they been there? . . . the
Rittmeister
didn't know exactly . . . all he knew was that they'd beaten him plenty . . . no exaggeration . . . one look at him . . . bruises and bumps all oyer . . . especially the right side, from top to toe . . . how'd they gone about it? . . . they grabbed hold of him and held him down and
wham! bam! 
. . . kicks! . . . pick handles! . . . that's the stuff! . . . two three times a day . . . the
Revizor
ditto, but not so bad . . . von Leiden's uniform griped them . . . they'd taken it off and dressed him like a prisoner . . . a lady prisoner . . . overalls, neck cloth, leather apron . . . one of them had put on his uniform, his spurs, and his schapska . . . that was the one who'd whipped him with a poker . . . I could see why they were in a hurry to leave! . . . and his mare? . . . they'd killed her with their pickaxes! . . . not quickly . . . slowly . . . big ugly wounds . . . in three days . . . then they'd cut her up . . . so much for the inquest! . . . meanwhile the women were making tracks . . . only one stayed behind . . . within earshot, to chew us out . . . "brutes! spies! cops!" . . . she just stayed there . . . her buddies were dots on the horizon . . . old von Leiden who enjoyed getting himself whipped by his little imps had had his bellyful . . . maybe that would cure him . . . he certainly had fractures . . . and fractures don't mend easy at his age . . . especially out there without a hospital or an X-ray machine or an ambulance . . . the gendarme wanted all the details . . . how the mare had died . . . how they'd roasted her . . . beginning with how they'd killed her . . . they'd taken their pickaxes to her head and belly! . . . and then they'd cut her up . . . dismembered her . . . and roasted the meat . . . that we could see! . . . they'd eaten some already . . . quite a lot! . . . he'd eaten some too . . . so had the
Revizor!
. . . between two kickings and beatings! . . . both of them! you've got to eat! . . . and drink? the gendarme wanted to know . . . that water over there . . . not very appetizing . . . muddy . . . black and green . . . with Bleuette's bowels soaking in it . . . real butchers! . . . they'd cleaned her out completely and put the good pieces in the fire . . . there was more roasting! . . . they kept cooking up steaks . . . how many of these escapees were there? . . . about a hundred, according to the old man . . . the
Revizor
thought there were more . . . "at least two hundred!" . . . they'd know the exact number in Moorsburg . . . they had a roster . . . the gendarme would go and see . . . later . . . they were all gone except for the one that was insulting us up on top of the slope . . . I thought maybe we could see them in the distance . . . those tarts were real sprinters . . . not like us! . . . and some of them were old, I'd seen them in Moorsburg . . . ass-peddling great-grandmothers . . . all far away, not one lagging behind, except this one right here . . . I look at their water, this little pool . . . really stagnant water and full of guts . . . well, how about it? those steaks on the fire! . . . and more big bloody chunks in reserve . . . maybe somebody was hungry . . . the wounded first! . . . I ask the
Rittmeister
. . .
"ja! ja!"
he's hungry! . . . in his state . . . he amazes me . . . the
Revizor
's hungry too . . . I wouldn't have thought it . . . they'd developed a taste . . . the wild women lambasted them twice a day but stuffed them with meat in between . . . and gave them this good water to drink . . . our Gypsy harvesters, men, women, and children, are drawn to the meat . . . they ask Kracht . . . if they can have a taste . . . these steaks on the fire . . . and Bleuette's enormous haunches . . . they're afraid to help themselves, but they'd like to . . . they have very sharp knives, curved, more like cutlasses . . . Kracht asks the gendarme . . .
"ja! ja!"
. . . in that case everybody! not just the old Uhlan . . . everybody . . . a steak apiece! . . . one of the Gypsies does the carving . . . thin slices? . . . or thick ones? . . . he asks us . . . we can see he knows his business . . . he's got style . . . in peacetime he must be something in a hotel or a restaurant . . . which piece? . . . from the leg?. . . or the neck? . . . we'll have to take some away with us, we'll never be able to finish it all . . . it'll keep . . . we pile it in . . . the ladies can't see us any more, too bad! . . . what'll they eat now? . . . they'll starve! . . . hell, the bloody bitches'll find some little horse! or maybe a cop! . . . and roast him on a spit! . . . I'm trying to get a laugh out of Kracht . . . he doesn't laugh . . . he's pissed off . . .

"We'll
roast
them!"

That's what he thinks . . . they're miles away . . . Anyway, we've got to go back . . . we've found the
Rittmeister
and the
Revizor 
. . . not in very good shape, beaten and battered, but alive! . . . a few fractures, I think . . . if we hadn't found them, or if we'd found them two days later, they'd have been dead . . . those females had been at them for a week down in that hole . . . if the gendarme hadn't seen the smoke, we'd have gone by . . . straight ahead . . . well, fairly straight . . . we'd have been kidnaped by other whores from other camps . . . there must have been some . . . why not? . . . one thing now . . . our two zebras couldn't pick themselves up out of the clay . . . they tried, but they couldn't make it . . . they were feeling a little better, but still flat on their backs in the mud . . . they were shivering . . . the women had dressed them in their skirts, aprons, and shifts . . . just like themselves! . . . they'd walked off with the
Revizor'
s frock coat, his satchel, and his dossiers . . . and the old boy's whole uniform, saber and boots and revolver . . . the gendarme took note . . . that's how they'd get caught . . . they'd try to sell the stuff . . . they always do . . . I thought: maybe . . . meanwhile we had these two on our hands . . . mauled, frazzled, and mired! . . . Walking was put of the question . . . luckily there were plenty of us, we'd carry them back to the manor . . . ten or twelve could manage the
Revizor
. . . and the same for Count von Leiden . . . over their heads . . . not uncomfortable at all . . . they were still groaning . . . but mostly from the cold . . . the autumn wind; from the east . . . crows overhead and down in the ravine . . . all over the place . . . naturally, the meat . . . and gulls . . . the gulls are from Rostock . . . Wamemünde . . . the coast . . . that's where Rostock is . . . I think about the coast . . . there must be maps up at Marie-Thérèse's . . . relief maps . . . in the old man's library . . . and not just maps . . . scores of all the operas and ballets . . . and novels, all the classics . . . and George Sand and Paul de Kock and Jules Verne, illustrated . . . Lili was supposed to go up and see Marie-Thérèse . . . this sudden fool excursion had upset everything . . . this dash through the beet fields . . . I thought about all-this from furrow to furrow . . . way behind the porters . . . I could already see the church, the dock, the thatched roofs . . . what were we going to do with these fragile articles? . . . all internal injuries and fractures . . . once we got back? . . . my responsibility . . . but first I wanted them to stop! . . .

"Le Vig! . . . Lili! hey! Christ Almighty!"

They all turn around . . .

"Wait for me!"

All right with them . . . they put down the damaged goods . . . the ground doesn't give so much around here . . . no more muck . . . more like gravel . . . I can get ahead . . . here I am!

"Doctor, where do you want to put them?"

I'd been thinking about it . . . the advantage of bringing up the rear . . . gives you a chance to think . . .

"Both downstairs in the drawing room . . ."

"Together?"

They didn't see how . . . I explain . . . the big drawing room, the one with the cupboard . . . they'd be comfortable . . . they wouldn't be alone . . . Lili, Le Vig, and me would sleep in the armchairs . . . I'd have everything I needed right there . . . cotton, ampuls, gauze . . . I'd see about the fractures later on . . . I couldn't take care of them there . . . the first thing was to stop those shivers . . . maybe I could get an ambulance? . . . forget it! . . . the Lord helps those who . . . camphorated oil . . . I still had some . . . a box or two . . . enough . . . I feel Count von Leiden's pulse . . . and the
Revizor
's . . . very . . . very feeble! . . . I ask Kracht for some rum . . . I know he's got everything when he's in the mood . . . he'd better be! . . . and two blankets . . . I can't cover them with two three feet of straw like us . . . they'd suffocate . . . the rum's important . . . grog! . . . but come to think of it, there's a bed in the drawing room, the old boy's divan! . . . we go in . . . but what about his blankets? and the pillows? we look around . . . we don't find a thing . . . those are the first things people snag . . . pillows, sheets, blankets . . . I've seen it myself on rue Girardon (No. 4), in Saint-Malo and Sartrouville . . . the second you're out the door,
pssst!
gone! like rockets! . . . the first step! . . . all national awakenings start with the theft of bedding! . . . the very first day . . . you won't find a sheet! . . . after the Convention, after the White Terror, or the one in 1944 . . . this régime, that régime, rubber stamps! but sheets . . . that's something else again! . . . I say to Lili . . .

"Don't waste your time, go up to the old bag's, tell her we've got her brother, tell her he was way out on the plain and he's sick, very sick . . . she should come down and see him . . . but first! first! to give you two blankets . . . not for us! for her brother! I can't cover him with our straw, I'm afraid he'd swallow it and choke . . ."

Lili sees my point, she runs along . . . Kracht goes too . . . for the rum . . . the
feldgendarme
doesn't want to hang around . . .
nein!
. . .
nein!
out of the question! not even for a cup of coffee . . . ersatz but hot . . . not even for a slug of the rum I'm expecting . . .
nein!
. . .
dienst! dienst!
duty! . . . he'd been sent to bring back the Revizor . . . mission accomplished! . . . not brimming with health, but definitely the
Revizor!
. . . now he had other missions . . . all urgent! . . . first to Moorsburg, his report! . . . then other things to investigate! . . . all sorts of things! . . . I ask him how many men . . . I mean in his detachment, his legion . . .