Maria had once told me, perhaps to get back at Grandpa, ‘it’s no good either praying or panicking, but praying is certainly more practical.’ I mentally clutched at that dictum of hers and began to laugh. I laughed without thinking. Giulia, quicker on the uptake than me, promptly seized on the occasion and laughed even louder, again and again, louder and louder, her eyes flashing from me to the soldiers, until in the end they were laughing too. At which point Giulia took a pace back, her face suddenly serious, and with two fingers gently pushed the gun-barrel down from my neck. The Austrian slung his weapon over his shoulder. Giulia leant her head on my shoulder and, in the unexpected silence, grinned.
The one with the Istrian accent said something in German to his companion; then, eyeing the two of us, he shook his head. ‘I love you, I love you,’ he chuckled, and gave a punch on the shoulder to the other, who was gawping at us with two tiny, expressionless eyes and baring all his teeth, few and yellow as they were.
Giulia was a blazing fire, and they hadn’t seen such a woman for goodness knows how long.
I pulled out my cigarettes, and the one from Pola removed his gloves and grabbed the packet, offering it to his friend. But the other jerked his chin towards Giulia: he wasn’t thinking about cigarettes. Whereupon the Istrian put one between his lips, lit it, and at once took his mate by surprise by jamming it into his mouth. ‘Go, go,’ he said, lighting another for himself and putting my packet in his pocket. ‘
Raus, raus!
’
I took Giulia’s hand and we made our way leisurely into the trees. We didn’t look back. Behind us, beyond the woodland sounds, the two German voices were interlocked. The toothless fellow was jabbering hoarsely, while the Istrian tried to calm him down with brief interjections. After a few minutes the woods reasserted their sovereignty with the sudden whirring of wings and the murmur of water flowing beneath the ice in frozen streams.
We walked on for ten minutes or so without speaking. Then Giulia gave my hand a hard squeeze.
‘You don’t know much about women, do you?’
‘Not much.’
‘Liar,’ she said, and laughed that mocking laugh of hers.
It was still dark when Teresa woke me next morning. It took me several attempts to shake the blankets off.
‘There’s an emergency!’
Grandpa turned over with much crunching, but didn’t wake up.
As I got up I realized that I had gone to bed almost fully clothed. I put on boots and overcoat and caught up with the cook.
Waiting for me in the kitchen was a tall man with dark, steady eyes, a badly shaven chin, a dirty cloak, and patched sleeves and breeches. But his smile showed an array of strong, white straight teeth. He was not a peasant, even though he wanted to pass for one.
‘You must come with me, some friends are expecting us,’ he said in dialect. But he wasn’t from the Veneto, though he was pretending to be. On our feet we drank the hot milky coffee prepared by Teresa, who eyed me in silence, without even a little grunt.
‘You have to go,’ she said, speaking for once in Italian. ‘The mistress knows about it, and Donna Maria told me,’ she added, returning to dialect.
The man walked swiftly, but I had no trouble in keeping up with him in the woods, which he seemed to know like the back of his hand. He uttered not a word, and after the first few minutes I saw it was better to say nothing and save my breath for walking.
And walk we did, for many hours, with very few breaks. When we stopped it was always in dense forest, away from roads and clearings. The man would produce a knife and a slab of hard cheese, offer me two mouthfuls – always two, and always the same size – and then hand me a dented flask. ‘Just a sip,’ he would say, for there was a taste of wine in the water. There was a meticulousness about whatever he did that I found reassuring.
We joined Brian and Renato at dusk, in a
The one with the Istrian accent said something in German to his companion; then, eyeing the two of us, he shook his head. ‘I love you, I love you,’ he chuckled, and gave a punch on the shoulder to the other, who was gawping at us with two tiny, expressionless eyes and baring all his teeth, few and yellow as they were.
Giulia was a blazing fire, and they hadn’t seen such a woman for goodness knows how long.
I pulled out my cigarettes, and the one from Pola removed his gloves and grabbed the packet, offering it to his friend. But the other jerked his chin towards Giulia: he wasn’t thinking about cigarettes. Whereupon the Istrian put one between his lips, lit it, and at once took his mate by surprise by jamming it into his mouth. ‘Go, go,’ he said, lighting another for himself and putting my packet in his pocket. ‘
Raus, raus!
’
I took Giulia’s hand and we made our way leisurely into the trees. We didn’t look back. Behind us, beyond the woodland sounds, the two German voices were interlocked. The toothless fellow was jabbering hoarsely, while the Istrian tried to calm him down with brief interjections. After a few minutes the woods reasserted their sovereignty with the sudden whirring of wings and the murmur of water flowing beneath the ice in frozen streams.
We walked on for ten minutes or so without speaking. Then Giulia gave my hand a hard squeeze.
‘You don’t know much about women, do you?’
‘Not much.’
‘Liar,’ she said, and laughed that mocking laugh of hers.
It was still dark when Teresa woke me next morning. It took me several attempts to shake the blankets off.
‘There’s an emergency!’
Grandpa turned over with much crunching, but didn’t wake up.
As I got up I realized that I had gone to bed almost fully clothed. I put on boots and overcoat and caught up with the cook.
Waiting for me in the kitchen was a tall man with dark, steady eyes, a badly shaven chin, a dirty cloak, and patched sleeves and breeches. But his smile showed an array of strong, white straight teeth. He was not a peasant, even though he wanted to pass for one.
‘You must come with me, some friends are expecting us,’ he said in dialect. But he wasn’t from the Veneto, though he was pretending to be. On our feet we drank the hot milky coffee prepared by Teresa, who eyed me in silence, without even a little grunt.
‘You have to go,’ she said, speaking for once in Italian. ‘The mistress knows about it, and Donna Maria told me,’ she added, returning to dialect.
The man walked swiftly, but I had no trouble in keeping up with him in the woods, which he seemed to know like the back of his hand. He uttered not a word, and after the first few minutes I saw it was better to say nothing and save my breath for walking.
And walk we did, for many hours, with very few breaks. When we stopped it was always in dense forest, away from roads and clearings. The man would produce a knife and a slab of hard cheese, offer me two mouthfuls – always two, and always the same size – and then hand me a dented flask. ‘Just a sip,’ he would say, for there was a taste of wine in the water. There was a meticulousness about whatever he did that I found reassuring.
We joined Brian and Renato at dusk, in a
Similar Books
