We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [24]
He walked back the way he had come through the mud to the cratered road. Thirty minutes later, he was back in the Casualty Clearing Station, standing by the cot of a German officer whose foot was swathed in bloody bandages, his face white and mask-like with the effort of controlling his pain.
“Captain Reavley,” Joseph said, introducing himself. “I believe you wanted to see me, Colonel?”
The man stared at Joseph’s uniform as if trying to understand his insignia, and the Military Cross and Distinguished Service Medal. These were both front-line awards, and yet he was still a captain. “You have been demoted?” he said in German. He spoke very quietly, the subject being a delicate one, and there was sympathy in his eyes.
It was Schenckendorff, Joseph was sure of it. He thought he was speaking to Matthew, and had therefore expected a major. And certainly the chaplain’s collar confused him. Only the name was what he had been told.
But he must be careful. “What is your name and rank?” Joseph asked. “Why did you send for me?”
The man was exhausted, and to surrender must be almost intolerable for him. His accent was discreet, highly educated. He probably spoke English, even if he chose not to now. But if he really was the German ally of the Peacemaker, then he would be the man who had obtained the kaiser’s signature on the original treaty, and he would unquestionably be of the old aristocracy.
“Why did you ask for me?” Joseph repeated.
“I asked for Major Reavley,” the man replied, drawing his breath in sharply as another wave of pain overtook him. “I did not know you were a man of the church. It does not seem to make sense.”
“It makes excellent sense,” Joseph told him, moving a little closer but remaining standing. You did not sit on the narrow cot of a wounded man; the sheer alteration of weight could hurt intensely. “I am chaplain of the Cambridgeshire regiment, the remnants of which are still here at Ypres. I refused promotion because I want to stay with the men, not move back to regimental headquarters.”
Schenckendorff nodded fractionally, both understanding and respect in his eyes.
“I think it is my brother, Major Matthew Reavley, whom you want, Colonel Schenckendorff,” Joseph went on.
The man’s face tightened. It would have been impossible for him to have grown any paler. Joseph realized with a sudden, searing pity what his decision must have cost. He was a man who loved his country and had once believed passionately that it could dominate and govern in a lasting peace. Now he was coming through the lines to betray, in turn, the trust that had deceived him. The courage and the grief of it were overwhelming. For the first time Joseph saw with wrenching power the meaning of defeat, not just of a nation but of individual men and the dreams they had lived and died for. Perhaps heroism could only be truly measured in those who had lost, and faced the ultimate truth without flinching.
“Yes,” Schenckendorff agreed at last. “I would be obliged if I could speak with him. It is…necessary.”
“He is here,” Joseph told him. “I’ll bring him as soon as I can. But as you will be aware, we dare not tell anyone else who you are, or why you are so important.”
Schenckendorff did not answer.
“You must tell no one,” Joseph said urgently, lowering his voice even further. “Be as invisible as you can be, just like any other prisoner. We have no idea where the Peacemaker…” He hesitated. “Where your counterpart may have allies,” he amended. It was brutal, but he could not afford to be unclear. “He may have guessed that you have come to us, and he will see it as a betrayal, one he cannot afford.”
“I know,” Schenckendorff said in no more than a whisper. “He will kill me. Perhaps he will do that eventually anyway. With him the cause was always first.” He spoke with difficulty. “Perhaps that is the germ of his moral decay—he cannot see that some weapons destroy the men who wield them in a subtler and deeper way than the enemy they kill with their use. I will be extremely careful, Reverend Reavley.” The shadow of a smile touched