Kirchoff’s unit broke formation and left with the same cold efficiency they had taken the village. Not a word was spoken after Kirchoff’s orders were given to his officers. The entire stowing of kit and disassembling of emplacements was done silently.
Aubrey and von Stralick were on the side of the road, watching the departure. Kirchoff was in the leading lorry and saluted as it rolled out.
When the last lorry disappeared around the bend, von Stralick slipped into the woods. Aubrey stood where he was, retaining his Dr Tremaine appearance in case Kirchoff returned. He saw the villagers congregating once again on the green, amazed at the turn of events but unwilling to approach him, for which Aubrey was grateful, for it gave him some time to contemplate what it was like to be Dr Tremaine.
So this is what it’s like to be feared, he thought. Once Aubrey – as Dr Tremaine – had confronted Kirchoff, every action of the colonel had been dictated by fear. He was fearful of having done the wrong thing, of not having followed orders properly, of making a mistake. There was a kind of respect in Kirchoff’s eyes, too, but it was the sort of respect a beaten dog gives a capricious master. Keep on his right side! it said. He’s dangerous!
The rain George had been predicting finally began to fall. Gloomily, Aubrey ignored it. He didn’t like the way fear was used to move people. It fostered negativity and distrust. It crushed hope, denied joy.
But it was effective.
Von Stralick, Madame Zelinka, George, Caroline and Sophie came out of the woods. They were all armed, apart from von Stralick. ‘I told them all was safe, but they preferred to believe otherwise.’
‘Just being careful,’ George said. ‘Something I’ve learned, of late.’
Caroline stood directly in front of Aubrey, pistol in one hand, the other on her hip. ‘I don’t like your looks, Aubrey. Can you do something about them?’
‘A pleasure.’ Aubrey dispensed with the Dr Tremaine aspect, casting it aside like a soiled garment. ‘Better?’
‘Much.’
As Aubrey and his friends approached the green, avoiding puddles where they could, the villagers, one by one, came out of their dwellings in hats and heavy coats.
Finally an old gaffer – the one who had spent most of his time glaring at Kirchoff’s troops – confronted them.
‘And who would you be?’
Aubrey hesitated. What could he tell them? ‘Friends,’ he said in his best Holmlandish.
The gaffer shuffled forward. He removed his cap and held it in both hands in front of him while rain pelted on his bald head. ‘What have we done?’ he demanded. ‘To be treated like this?’
Aubrey did his best. ‘It’s the war.’
‘Those Albionites.’ The old man spat on the ground. ‘They were going to kill us, weren’t they?’
‘I -’
‘They killed the miners. The last ten young men in the village and they killed them.’
‘They wanted to join up,’ a woman called, ‘but they weren’t allowed!’
‘They were needed in the mine?’ Aubrey asked. ‘To find the crystal?’
The gaffer eyed Aubrey. ‘You heard of that? Never seen the likes of it, any of us. As big as the church door, it was.’
‘Unbelievable,’ von Stralick breathed. ‘Nothing like that has been found for centuries.’
And Dr Tremaine has happened to fall on the place just after it was uncovered, Aubrey thought.
‘What happens now?’ the gaffer said.
That’s an extremely good question. His deception had undone Kirchoff’s deception, but for how long?
He put up a hand. ‘Kirchoff talked about choosing survivors. He said they were taken away.’
The old man scratched his chin. ‘Survivors? Trudy and her children were tied up and put in the church.’ He pointed at the young woman who had called out.
Survivors. Aubrey gnawed at this. Why would Kirchoff want survivors? Why would he organise survivors before the massacre started?
Aubrey nearly slapped himself on the forehead as the answer came to him. ‘Thank you,’ he said to the old man. ‘You’ll be safe now.’
‘We will? How do you know?’
‘I guarantee it.’