The Silver Sword (13 page)

Then Bronia saw something which gave them hope. Down in the water, near the point of the V-shaped rock, was a stick that looked as if it might serve as a paddle. She climbed down to get it and found it was the very paddle they had lost. This was luck indeed.

They turned the canoe over and poured the water out. Then, with new confidence, they launched it again. Stepping aboard, they headed for midstream. And the current caught them and carried them on towards the rapids.

The river grew faster, and the bank flashed past. Soon they were in a kind of gorge, where the river squeezed past great boulders, some of them as high as houses. Some of the swells were over a foot high, and the spray dashed over the bow and stung their faces. The water roared here so that even the loudest shout could not be heard. Out to the left there were huge oily surges that looked as if they would pound you down into the depths if you got caught in them.

Bronia closed her eyes and clung to her sister’s waist. Ruth was not as scared as she had expected to be. With a triumphant sense of exhilaration she flashed in with her paddle, heading always for the open stream, away from the white broken water where the rocks lay hidden. Now and then a boulder loomed up, and she knew that if they struck it they would be dashed to pieces. But a quick dip of the paddle at the right moment was enough to shoot them safely past.

In no time the river broadened, the boulders eased, and the banks were wooded again. The terrors of the rapids were over. Ruth hoped that Edek and Jan, whose two-seater was much less easy to manoeuvre, had been as successful as they had.

There seemed no need for the paddle now, for the water was clear of rocks and the current smooth and swift. They could lie back and let the canoe take care of itself.

Bronia closed her eyes and fell asleep. Ruth lay back and watched the blue sky overhead and the climbing sun. It was to be another scorching day, and she too became sleepy and dozed.

A grating, tearing sound brought her to her senses, and she woke to find herself thigh-deep in water. The canoe had grounded on a shoal and a sharp stone had ripped the canvas underneath. She looked about her. The river was very broad here, and they were near the right bank, where it was shallow and easy to wade ashore. So they stepped out and scraped the waterlogged craft over the pebbles to the bank and hauled it ashore.

“The tear’s too long to mend,” said Ruth. “We shall have to leave the canoe and walk. It can’t be far to the Danube now.”

They found a path which threaded its way through the trees on the bank, and they followed it to the last big bend before the river joined the Danube at Falkenburg. There were no woods here, only green fields, a dusty country road, and a gently sloping bank that reached far out into the river.

Ruth made for the bank, for she thought it would give her a good view of the river in both directions and some chance of seeing Edek and Jan. Except for a couple of unfinished haystacks, the bank was deserted. She did not know that two sentries had posted themselves here for most of the morning, on the look-out for their canoe. Weary with waiting, they had climbed to the top of one of the haystacks and taken it in turns to go to sleep.

The first she knew of their presence was when a half-eaten apple struck her on the shoulder. Then there was a bark, and Ludwig was licking her ankles.

“Where have you been all this time? We thought you must have come to grief in the rapids,” said Jan, who was standing on top of the stack. He gave the sleeping Edek a shove, and the boy landed — with hay sticking out of his hair and his shirt, right at Bronia’s feet.

It was a merry meeting.

“We came to grief too,” said Edek, “same way as you did, but we travelled further before we went aground.”

Not a hundred yards away a convoy of American lorries swept up the road in a pother of dust. They were crammed with refugees, most of them Poles and all grimly silent. But the children were so busy talking and laughing over their experiences that they did not even notice.

They walked into Falkenburg, crossed the Danube then got a lorry lift for some miles along the road to Switzerland. After this, more walking.

Three days later, tired and joyful, they camped by the roadside.

“Only eighty more miles to Lake Constance,” said Ruth gaily, as she looked out a patch of rough dry grass for Bronia to lie in.

“Is Lake Constance in Switzerland?” said Bronia sleepily.

“Switzerland is on the far shore of the lake,” said Ruth. “Lie down here, Bronia. The grass is nice and thick.”

“Will Mother be waiting for us on the shore?” said Bronia.

“Perhaps she will,” said Ruth. And in dim light nobody noticed that her eyes were wet with tears.

Jan’s treasure box was one of the few things which they had salvaged from the wrecked canoes. He had been too busy to think about it, but tonight he decided to open it to make sure that all his treasures were safe. With Ludwig’s nose in his lap, he took the lid off and counted them one by one. Suddenly he leapt to his feet.

“The sword’s missing,” he said. “Someone’s stolen it.”

“Nobody would do that,” said Ruth. “Let me have a look.”

She checked through the box, but the sword wasn’t there. Thinking carefully back to the last time she had seen it, she said, “You showed it to Mr. and Mrs. Wolff, Jan, and put it on the mantelpiece beside Rudolf’s photo. Did you leave it there?”

For a moment Jan stopped his raging, then grunted, “Yes,” and ran off to the roadside.

Ruth said no more. Bronia lay curled in the grass with a blanket over her, already half asleep. Ruth gave her attention to Edek. Since the river adventure he had been coughing more than ever, and had complained more than once that the pain in his chest was getting worse. She was shocked to see how ill and haggard he looked. In her knapsack she had a jersey that Mrs. Wolff had given her. She made him put it on and lie down in his blanket.

Soon he stopped coughing and lay still. “Where’s Jan gone?” he asked.

Ruth looked up. It was almost dark now, and Jan was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Ludwig. She stood up and called him. From way up the road a voice called back, “I’m going back for the sword.”

“The silly little idiot,” Ruth exploded, and she ran off after him.

A few minutes later she brought him back. She ticked him off roundly, pointing out that the Wolffs were honest folk and would look after the sword until it was sent for.

Sullen, resentful, plunged in gloom, he said nothing at first. But when Ruth lay down to sleep, he muttered, “I’m going back all the same.”

“Light a fire for us, Jan,” said Ruth. “Edek’s not well and it will help him to sleep.” It was a warm night and they did not need a fire. But she felt sure that Jan would not leave them once he put his mind to something practical. Nevertheless, when the fire was burning and the other three were sleeping, she forced herself to keep awake just in case.

At midnight the fire had died down to a red glow. She was still awake. Out of the darkness and the stillness a voice spoke, or rather gasped, her name.

“Edek! I thought you were asleep,” she said.

“I can’t sleep. The pain’s too bad,” said Edek. “I can’t — go on — any further.”

“You’ll feel better in the morning,” said Ruth.

“Can’t walk any more,” said Edek.

“We’ll get a lift. It’s only eighty miles.”

“There’s no traffic going that way,” said Edek.

She talked to him quietly for a while and, after a further bout of coughing, he dropped off to sleep. But anxiety for him kept her awake. A change had come over him during the last twenty-four hours. If they did not reach Switzerland soon, he might not live.

The hours crept on, and still she did not sleep.

Once more out of the stillness a voice called her name. This time it was Jan.

“Ruth, may I have Edek’s shoes when he dies?” he said.

“He’s not going to die,” said Ruth, forcing herself to speak calmly.

“He will if I don’t have my sword,” said Jan. “And we’ll never find your father either. He gave me the sword and it’s our guide and lifeline. We can’t do without it.”

He spoke with such certainty that she almost believed him. It was true that, while they had the sword, fortune had been kind to them. And now Edek was more gravely ill than he had ever been. But all she said was, “Go to sleep, Jan. Everything will be all right.”

Jan did not go to sleep — it was Ruth who slept. There came a time towards dawn when she could not keep her eyes open any longer.

The fire was cold and the sun peering over the rim of the hills when she woke. Jan and Ludwig had gone. A crumpled blanket and a half-moon of flattened grass showed where they had lain.

Her first thought was to run after Jan. Then a glance at the two sleepers reminded her that she had other responsibilities more pressing. Gently she touched Edek’s hand. It had hardly any warmth in it. His face was frighteningly pale. Giving way to panic, she leaned over to listen for his breathing. Yes, he was breathing. Thank God for that. But he did not look as if he would be able to get up, let alone walk.

The road was empty and there was nobody in sight. Her strong faith seemed to desert her and she felt more dreadfully alone than ever. Was it true what Jan had said about the sword?

With a fierce effort of will she took herself in hand and began to prepare breakfast. There was still food in the knapsack left over from what Mrs. Wolff had given her.

Bronia was the first to wake, and she ate hungrily. She did not seem at all worried to find Jan and Ludwig gone. “Jan can look after himself,” she said cheerfully.

“He forgets that we may need him to look after us,” said Ruth.

The sun stealing over his drawn face woke Edek. He was too dazed to notice that Jan and Ludwig were missing. Ruth could not persuade him to eat anything.

“What’s wrong with Edek? His eyes are all glassy,” said Bronia.

“I expect it’s the heat,” said Ruth, and Bronia was satisfied with the answer. Though it was still early, the sun was already hot. Yet another scorching day was in store for them.

Ruth had almost to lift Edek to his feet. When she let go of him, he fell over. With Bronia’s help she got him up again, and with their arms round him they staggered along to the roadside. Edek seemed just sensible enough to understand that he was expected to walk, and after a few paces he managed fairly well with just Ruth to steady him. But he looked as if he were sleep-walking and it was only a matter of time before he must collapse.

“Shall we have a ride today?” said Bronia.

“Of course we shall,” said Ruth.

“The driver said yesterday that there was no traffic on this road going to Switzerland,” said Bronia.

“He was wrong,” said Ruth. “Look — there’s something coming now.”

But it was only a labourer on a bicycle, who hardly gave them a glance as he passed by.

“I should have asked him for help,” thought Ruth when, after an hour of painful walking, nobody else had appeared.

Then Edek collapsed. There were beads of sweat on his brow and he kept muttering, “I can’t go on. I can’t go on.” Ruth dragged him into the shade and told Bronia to stay by the roadside and stop the first person that passed.

A woman in slacks came by, pushing a barrow. She seemed to be looking for firewood. Ruth made her understand that they wanted help, and she shrugged her shoulders and made off. A little later a lorry with a tarpaulin roof stretched over a frame came along. At Bronia’s signal, it braked to a halt. She called to the driver in Polish. He was an American G.i. His face lit up when he heard her speak, and to her astonishment he answered her in her own language.

He stepped down from the lorry, lighting a cigarette as he did so.

“Have you come from Poland too?” said Bronia, forgetting her errand for the moment.

“Not exactly. My parents were Polish, but I’m from the States myself,” said the man. “We went there before the war. Joe Wolski’s my name — just call me Joe. It’s good to hear a Polish voice again.” He bent down and took her hands in his. “Now, lady. What’s your trouble?”

They squashed into the front seat of the truck beside Joe Wolski, and off they rattled on the road to Switzerland.

“You’ll be telling me next that you’ve come all the way from Warsaw,” said Joe.

“So we have,” said Bronia.

“Gee, that’s some way,” said Joe. “I guess the city’s changed since I was there before the war. I was only six when Ma and Pa took me to the States to settle. I like it a lot over there now, and I can’t say I’m sorry we made the move. How’s the kid doing?”

The “kid”, Edek, was sitting by the door where the fresh air from the open window had already revived him.

“Would he like a cigarette?” said Joe.

Edek shook his head.

“What about you, lady?”

Ruth refused as well, and she watched Joe take both hands off the steering wheel to light a cigarette for himself — and suddenly jab in an elbow to correct a swerve. After her almost sleepless night, she was too tired to do anything but lie back with her head against the top of the seat. In spite of their good luck in securing a lift, she could not shake off her anxiety for Edek.

The countryside swept by — trees and hills and villages — and after a while Ruth roused herself from her sadness and asked Joe where he was taking them.

“You leave that to me, lady,” he said. “You’ve plenty on your mind and you’ve told me where you want to go.”

“But we hardly know who you are — or what you’re doing.”

“I’m the Occupation,” he said. “The army taught me French so I could go to Paris — then posted me to Germany because I can’t speak German. I’m here to fire folks with the spirit of occupation, to tell them they’ve all grown up the wrong way. But what’s the use? They’re so sick and tired they just stare at you. It’s not often you get a chance to help someone … Gee, that was a close shave.”

Joe had been trying to light another cigarette — and the lorry had swerved across the road, skidded and nearly knocked down a tree. He righted her just in time, blew the tree a kiss, and drove on.