from all other temptations in Occupied Germany in A-U-C 2-6-9-8—two thousand, six hundred and ninety-eight, God help us!‘
‘What?’ Inside the doorway it was darker, and he couldn’t see Audley so clearly now. ‘A-U-C—?’
‘ “ Ab Urbe Condita” — “From the Founding of the City of Rome”—?’ Audley shook the rain from his furled umbrella on to the stone-flagged floor ‘—he put us all up in rank in Germany, to help us on our way, did Colonel Caesar Augustus Tiberius Germanicus Colbourne: lieutenant to captain, in my case—’ he looked up, from the umbrella to Fred ‘—and captain to major, in your case.’ He grinned. ‘If you ask your friend, Driver Hewitt … who is unpromotable, actually … Driver Hewitt will say: “Take the money, and run … sir!” ’ The grin twisted. That is, if he remembered to say “sir” … because Hughie takes a somewhat jaundiced view of officers. Although, as you have already lied so nobly for him, he may treat you differently, of course.‘
They had moved across the stone flags as Audley had been speaking out of deeper darkness, faintly yellowed by a hurricane lamp hanging from a bracket, into the grey-ness of an inner courtyard with pillared arcades on all four sides, like a monastic cloister in the middle of which the rain still deluged from above, catching the faint light of other lamps at its other corners.
‘That way—’ Audley pointed to the left, towards an open doorway, moving as he did so ‘—Amos? Are you in there?’ He peered into the doorway.
‘David?’ The voice from inside was sharper, just as the light was brighter. ‘What do you want?’
‘Major Fat-O’Rhiney has arrived, Amos.’ Audley gestured to Fred.
‘Oh … Christ !’ A chair scraped on stone. ‘I’d given him up for lost, damn it! Where is he?’
‘I’m here.’ Memory reanimated him as he took up Audley’s invitation: beyond Driver Hewitt, and Audley himself, there was a nastier memory of de Souza being busy. ‘Captain de Souza—?’
‘ Major de Souza, Major Fattorini.’ Audley hissed the inflated rank in his ear as Fred advanced past him. ‘Go on—go on!’ He pushed Fred forwards.
From within, the little room didn’t seem so bright as it had done from outside, in spite of its two pressure-lamps; and its typical temporary military furniture—two folding tables on thin metal legs, and two collapsible canvas chairs—somehow made it even emptier. One of the tables was furnished with a large typewriter and all the paraphernalia of its absent clerk—in-tray, out-tray, and a pile of files. And there were more files on the other table, which was set below the room’s single window—a curiously shaped opening, heavily latticed and set well above eye-level. But judging by this quantity of paperwork neither the adjutant nor his clerk would have much time for looking out of any window, thought Fred—certainly not if this was the load Colonel Colbourne’s band of brothers carried with it in the field, in a temporary billet.
‘Fattorini, my dear fellow—’ Major de Souza came out of the shadows on his right, round the room’s only other piece of furniture, which Fred had missed at first glance ‘—glad you could join us. Good of you to come.’
‘Sir.’ A trick of upwards-thrown light from one of the lamps distorted de Souza’s features unnaturally, almost diabolically. And Fred still couldn’t shake off the memory of what he had seen the man doing the last and only time they had met. And … a filing cabinet, for God’s sake ! he thought, as he fumbled inside his tunic for his documentation.
‘Oh—never mind that! We can do the paperwork later.’
In the midst of all his paperwork, de Souza scorned the formalities, holding out his hand in friendship. ‘“Frederick”—? David there says I should address you as “Fred”. But I can’t possibly do that. Because … apart from the fact that I once had a cocker spaniel who answered to
‘What?’ Inside the doorway it was darker, and he couldn’t see Audley so clearly now. ‘A-U-C—?’
‘ “ Ab Urbe Condita” — “From the Founding of the City of Rome”—?’ Audley shook the rain from his furled umbrella on to the stone-flagged floor ‘—he put us all up in rank in Germany, to help us on our way, did Colonel Caesar Augustus Tiberius Germanicus Colbourne: lieutenant to captain, in my case—’ he looked up, from the umbrella to Fred ‘—and captain to major, in your case.’ He grinned. ‘If you ask your friend, Driver Hewitt … who is unpromotable, actually … Driver Hewitt will say: “Take the money, and run … sir!” ’ The grin twisted. That is, if he remembered to say “sir” … because Hughie takes a somewhat jaundiced view of officers. Although, as you have already lied so nobly for him, he may treat you differently, of course.‘
They had moved across the stone flags as Audley had been speaking out of deeper darkness, faintly yellowed by a hurricane lamp hanging from a bracket, into the grey-ness of an inner courtyard with pillared arcades on all four sides, like a monastic cloister in the middle of which the rain still deluged from above, catching the faint light of other lamps at its other corners.
‘That way—’ Audley pointed to the left, towards an open doorway, moving as he did so ‘—Amos? Are you in there?’ He peered into the doorway.
‘David?’ The voice from inside was sharper, just as the light was brighter. ‘What do you want?’
‘Major Fat-O’Rhiney has arrived, Amos.’ Audley gestured to Fred.
‘Oh … Christ !’ A chair scraped on stone. ‘I’d given him up for lost, damn it! Where is he?’
‘I’m here.’ Memory reanimated him as he took up Audley’s invitation: beyond Driver Hewitt, and Audley himself, there was a nastier memory of de Souza being busy. ‘Captain de Souza—?’
‘ Major de Souza, Major Fattorini.’ Audley hissed the inflated rank in his ear as Fred advanced past him. ‘Go on—go on!’ He pushed Fred forwards.
From within, the little room didn’t seem so bright as it had done from outside, in spite of its two pressure-lamps; and its typical temporary military furniture—two folding tables on thin metal legs, and two collapsible canvas chairs—somehow made it even emptier. One of the tables was furnished with a large typewriter and all the paraphernalia of its absent clerk—in-tray, out-tray, and a pile of files. And there were more files on the other table, which was set below the room’s single window—a curiously shaped opening, heavily latticed and set well above eye-level. But judging by this quantity of paperwork neither the adjutant nor his clerk would have much time for looking out of any window, thought Fred—certainly not if this was the load Colonel Colbourne’s band of brothers carried with it in the field, in a temporary billet.
‘Fattorini, my dear fellow—’ Major de Souza came out of the shadows on his right, round the room’s only other piece of furniture, which Fred had missed at first glance ‘—glad you could join us. Good of you to come.’
‘Sir.’ A trick of upwards-thrown light from one of the lamps distorted de Souza’s features unnaturally, almost diabolically. And Fred still couldn’t shake off the memory of what he had seen the man doing the last and only time they had met. And … a filing cabinet, for God’s sake ! he thought, as he fumbled inside his tunic for his documentation.
‘Oh—never mind that! We can do the paperwork later.’
In the midst of all his paperwork, de Souza scorned the formalities, holding out his hand in friendship. ‘“Frederick”—? David there says I should address you as “Fred”. But I can’t possibly do that. Because … apart from the fact that I once had a cocker spaniel who answered to
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