Passions of War (21 page)

‘You,' she answered.

He looked as if he was going to say more, but he shook his head in despair, or exasperation. An orderly appeared at his side with a steaming mug and a small piece of dry bread.

‘Would the young gentleman like some coffee, sir?'

He looked so puzzled that Leo felt a stab of concern, but Malkovic laughed. ‘This “young gentleman” is actually a young lady. You can call her Gospodica Leo. Yes, give her the coffee.'

The confusion on the young man's face was so great that Leo almost laughed too, in spite of the fact that her head was swimming. Sasha held the cup out to her. It contained the usual brew of bitter black coffee, without which, it seemed, no Serbian could start the day.

‘No sugar this time, I'm afraid,' Sasha said. ‘You had the last few grains in the bag last night.'

Leo sipped the drink and although it contained no nourishment the warmth and the caffeine helped to raise her spirits. Before long she knew that she must answer a call of nature – but where, in the middle of all these men?'

She struggled to her feet. ‘Sasha, I must . . . I need to . . .'

He understood. ‘I'll show you where.' He led her across the clearing to where a tumble of rocks offered some shelter. ‘Don't worry. I'll see you are not disturbed.'

When she had finished she found him standing with his back scrupulously turned.

‘We must get on the road,' he said. ‘Come.'

The orderly was holding Cloud, Sasha's grey gelding, and Shadow ready, but as they approached them Leo gave a cry.

‘Oh, Sasha, they're skin and bones! Poor creatures!'

‘I know,' he replied. ‘We haven't been able to find fodder for them for days. They are surviving on dried leaves. But there's no help for it. We must hope that they will keep going until we reach the other side of the mountains.'

He helped her into the saddle and she felt Shadow sag for a moment under her weight. It crossed her mind that it was cruel to expect him to carry her, but she knew that she would never survive the journey on foot. If Sasha had not come upon her when he did, she would probably be lying helpless by the road now, like others she had seen as she trudged past.

All day the road wound on, higher and higher, the horses stumbling in the mud and slush. The river now ran in a ravine, far below them, and at one point Leo saw the snow flattened and discoloured at the edge of the track and, looking down, saw that a wagon had overturned and tumbled into the abyss, dragging the oxen that pulled it down with it. A little later they heard the sound of sawing and hammering and passed a group of wagons that had pulled off into a clearing. The oxen had been outspanned and the drivers were apparently cutting the wagons in half. Sasha called out to ask them what they were doing and received the answer that the bridges ahead were too narrow for the wagons to pass, so the men were converting them into two-wheeled carts. Further on they came upon the contents of several vehicles in a heap at the side of the track. Guns and ammunition, cooking pots, tents – all the impedimenta that the army carried with it – had been offloaded so that essential supplies could be carried. Sasha shook his head, grimly.

‘If we get through alive we shall be a rabble, not an army!'

Worse was to come. In a little valley Leo saw ahead of them a crowd of moving shapes, wraith-like in the drifting snow. Coming closer, she saw that they were soldiers but not in Serbian uniform.

‘Austrian prisoners of war,' Sasha said.

‘Do you mean they have just been abandoned, left to fend for themselves?' Leo responded.

‘We can't feed our own people,' Sasha said. ‘Why should we use up our last essential supplies on them?'

As they rode past the men stood and stared in silence. Leo bent her head and did not return their gaze. To leave them seemed inhuman, but she saw the strength of Sasha's argument and reminded herself that it was the Austrians who had started the war. Nevertheless, she was ashamed.

Soon after that they began to pass bodies lying in the snow. Civilians, men, women and children, who had finally given up the struggle; and soldiers, too, many of them wounded. Some of them were still alive and called out for help. Sasha reached out and gripped Shadow's reins, urging the horse on.

‘There's nothing we can do, Leo. Those of us who have the strength must survive. Otherwise we all die. The Austrians are behind us and the Bulgarians are said to be moving in from the east. If they reach the far end of this valley before we do, we shall be bottled up here and forced to fight for our lives.'

Leo thought of her own convoy of patients and nurses. They would have had to abandon the ox-carts like everyone else. Were they still somewhere up ahead, struggling onwards? Or had she ridden past them, without recognizing them? What of Milan and Stella Patterson? There was no way Milan could have walked. Was he one of those lying in the snow by the roadside?

That night they ate the last of the bread and huddled together round the fire, trying to sleep.

‘How much further?' Leo asked.

Sasha shook his head. ‘A day? Two days? I don't know.'

It was sometime around the middle of the next day that Shadow suddenly staggered and went down on his knees. Leo just had time to throw herself to one side before he collapsed. Sasha dismounted and went to the horse's head, clicking his tongue and pulling at the reins. Shadow lifted his head once and made a feeble effort to bring his hind legs under him, then sank back, his breath whistling through dilated nostrils. Sasha was still for a moment, then he drew his revolver.

‘Leo, turn your back.'

‘No!' She knelt and stroked the black neck that had once been so sleek and powerful. ‘Is there nothing we can give him?'

‘You know there isn't. It's kinder to put him out of his misery than leave him to die. Turn away – please!'

She shook her head obstinately and after a brief hesitation he shrugged and put the muzzle of the gun against the horse's head. There was a crack, Shadow convulsed once and was still. Sasha got up and pulled Leo with him.

‘Now you will do as I ask and come away.'

But she had already seen two of the men advancing with knives in their hands. That night the cauldron over the fire gave off an odour that filled her mouth with saliva and the resulting stew was rich with gobbets of meat seasoned with the fiery paprika the company cook had carried with him. Leo thought that the first mouthful would choke her but as soon as she tasted it sentiment was swamped by sheer physical need and she devoured everything that was given to her.

That night they all slept better but Leo woke to the sound of lamentation. One of the men had died during the hours of darkness and his companions were mourning him. Sasha's face was taut with grief.

‘He's the fourth to die since we left Pristina,' he said. ‘And two others have just disappeared, left behind somewhere. God knows, we lost enough men in the fighting, but to see them dying from cold and hunger . . .'

He broke off and turned away. The ground was too hard to attempt to bury the dead man. They covered him with his greatcoat and someone fashioned a rough cross from two bits of wood, and then they set out again on their journey.

Sasha wanted Leo to ride Cloud, but she shook her head. ‘He's your horse, and your men need you. I don't belong here.'

He gripped her arm tightly. ‘You belong with me, and either we live together or we die together. Now get up on the horse! He hasn't the strength to carry us both.'

She rode for a couple of hours, then made the excuse that her feet were freezing and she needed to walk for a while. So he looped the reins over his arm and took her hand.

‘We'll walk together. Cloud needs the rest.'

At that moment they heard the crack of a rifle and a scream of pain. Swinging round, Leo saw one of Sasha's men drop to the ground, clutching his shoulder. A second later she was forced down on to the snow herself, with Sasha on top of her.

‘Stay still! Stay down!'

‘What is it?'

‘Bandits! Albanians, out for all they can steal.'

Twisting round she saw him reach up and grab his rifle from where it hung on his saddle. There were other shots, now, closer at hand, and she realized that their own men were returning fire. Sasha's rifle cracked close to her ear. She raised her head and saw figures among the trees, dodging from trunk to trunk. There was a cacophony of shots and screams, then sudden silence. She could hear Sasha breathing hard, then one more shot and a cry of triumph from one of his men. He got cautiously to his feet.

‘Cease fire, men. They've made a run for it. They'll be looking for easier pickings somewhere else.'

Leo got up and grabbed her pack. There was little in it but she still had a few field dressings. The man who had been wounded by the first shot was groaning and swearing and a brief examination showed her that the bullet was still lodged in his shoulder.

‘We can't probe for it here,' she told Sasha. ‘All I can do is dress the wound to stop the bleeding and give him some morphia for the pain.'

‘Do it,' he agreed, adding with a wry smile, ‘I had forgotten how useful it could be to have a nurse with us.'

They pressed on, along a track that grew narrower and narrower, towards the head of the valley. The way ran closer to the river again here, and they frequently had to cross it on bridges that consisted of nothing more than a few rough-hewn planks. More than once the whole column was held up because a pack mule or a handcart had slipped and fallen into the water. Then, towards midday, they heard a confused noise from the crowd ahead of them.

‘Is it another attack?' Leo asked.

Sasha shook his head, screwing up his eyes. ‘It sounds more like cheering.'

The word began to spread back along the line. ‘The sea! We can see the sea!'

A distant memory stirred in Leo's mind of her Greek lessons with her father. ‘Thalassa! Thalassa!' she murmured, and Sasha grinned and squeezed her hand. ‘Zenophon. But it was the Black Sea in that case.'

Leo glanced sideways at him. ‘You're the only person I know who would immediately recognize that.'

His grip tightened. ‘It's only one of the many things we share.'

When their turn came to crest the last rise Leo strained her eyes into the distance. At last the snow had stopped and far below them she could just make out the sea, like a band of pewter along the horizon. Looking ahead and behind from this vantage point she was amazed to see how the line of people stretched out of sight in both directions. It was clear that they must number in their thousands.

‘It's still a very long way,' she murmured.

‘But we shall get there,' he replied. ‘Now I have no doubt.'

She stumbled and he caught her arm again. ‘Now you will ride.'

This time she did not argue.

At evening they came to a small village, a collection of poor, circular huts straggling along a muddy street. The inhabitants stood in their doorways watching them pass with hostile faces. Sasha called out to one or two, asking if they would sell him some bread, but they turned away without answering until they came to a house that stood slightly apart at the end of the village, where an ancient woman responded with a toothless smile.

‘Yes, I have bread. How much will you give?'

Sasha named a price twice what Leo had been paying, even when the shortages began to bite. The old crone cackled and asked for double. He offered a figure somewhere between the two and eventually she hobbled off into the hut and returned with four loaves of rough black bread. That night there was more horse stew and this time they each had a small piece of bread to dip into it. When they had eaten Leo went to check on the wounded man. Until that time she had been too absorbed in her own struggle for survival to pay much attention to the rest of the company, but now she saw that several of them had minor wounds which were beginning to fester for lack of treatment. She spent an hour cleaning and dressing them and responding to their shy questions. It was plain that they were consumed with curiosity about her sudden appearance and her relationship with their commander but they had too much natural courtesy to ask her directly. She told them about the Sick and Wounded Convoy and how she had become separated from it. As to the rest, she left them to draw their own conclusions.

To Leo, the following day seemed the longest of all, even though they were going down hill and the snow had given way to a persistent drizzle. The bright strip of sea seemed to get no closer, and sometimes it disappeared from sight altogether and she began to think that it would take days rather than hours to reach it. But as the light faded they came at last to a proper road and turned south towards the port of Durazzo. A messenger rode along the ranks towards them and stopped to speak to Sasha, who turned and shouted to his men.

‘Keep going, lads. There's a camp waiting to receive us outside the town. Not far now.'

Starving and exhausted, they raised a ragged cheer and plodded on.

The camp, when they reached it at midnight, was in a field already churned to mud by the earlier arrivals. There were a few tents, but not enough by a long way to accommodate everyone and they were already full, and there was no wood for fires. They spent a miserable night huddled together on the wet ground with nothing to eat.

Soon after dawn an officer rode into the camp, followed by three wagons. Leo took one look at his uniform and ran to greet him.

‘Good morning! I can't tell you how glad I am to see a British officer! Oh, by the way, I'm Leonora Malham Brown. How do you do?'

He stared down at her and she suddenly realized how she must look to him: a filthy, ragged urchin. She ran a hand through her hair and said lamely, ‘I don't usually look like this.'

He found his voice and said, ‘You're English?'

‘Yes.'

‘And you're – forgive me, you are a woman?'