At last he broke the silence. “You know that it is not safe—”
“The one person.” She cut him off. “The one person on earth permitted to lecture me is my father.”
“I think I know why you travel our roads every day.”
Emma increased her pace. “You have no idea.”
“Perhaps. But I know that you could be safer—”
“If I stayed at home. But I will not be staying at home.”
“I would never suggest such a thing, mademoiselle. Some animals cannot live in a cage.”
Emma felt herself softening. This man had healed her father’s livestock many times. And had just rescued her. “What is your business, then? I am glad you saved me, thank you. Though it is a fraction of the penance you owe for my father’s exile.”
“But of course,” he said. And with that, Guillaume stopped walking. Emma did not notice for a few steps, but then slowed the cart by turning sideways. He stood beside his bicycle; it looked like a toy compared with his bulk. “I had something else in mind.”
Emma looked down her nose. “Yes?”
He surprised her then by smiling. “That expression on your face. I can’t decide if it comes from your father or Uncle Ezra.”
“Both men I loved, one who the occupying army murdered and the other who they took away in a cattle car.”
“One day this army will pay for its deeds.”
“How nice to think so,” Emma said, scanning the harbor below. A pair of gulls chased a third, who cried and squawked down the shore. “The Monsignor says that when I die I may go to heaven, too. But neither belief will fill anyone’s belly today.”
“Exactly,” Guillaume said. “That is why I want you to have this.” He reached into the satchel in his bicycle’s basket, producing a long black sheath. “This is a thigh harness,” he explained. Leaning the bike against his hip, he slid out a bright steel blade. “You can strap the weapon safely out of sight. A person would have to grope you to know you carried it. But if the need arises, this knife is high-quality steel, with a gutter along one side for the blood to flow without splashing you.”
“I, well . . . hmm,” Emma stammered.
“You might think to stab in this area,” he continued, gesturing at his chest. “But ribs make a surprisingly protective cage. It is more effective to plunge the knife lower, here.” He pointed below his sternum. “No protection. And if you can, hook the blade upward so it punctures the important things.”
Emma’s mouth went dry. It was as though her bluff were being called. Was she capable of stabbing someone? The red-haired corporal had made her think so, not five minutes before. But the steel reality of this weapon far exceeded her angry fantasy.
“I don’t want it,” she said at last.
“If you embark on activities that cause people to depend on you, then you have a responsibility to protect yourself.” Guillaume slid the blade into the sheath, placing it in her hands.
The weapon was heavy, and the leather smell reminded Emma of saddles. “I told you.” She spoke more firmly, holding the knife back toward him. “I don’t want this.”
“Yes you do,” Guillaume answered mildly. He threw a leg over the seat of his bicycle, gripped the handlebars, put one huge boot on a pedal. “I heard you tell the Monsignor yesterday with my own ears.”
“What did I say?”
He leaned closer. “That you wanted to kill.”
Chapter 16
They had been ordered to assemble, everyone, no excuses, that morning in April. It was a bluebird day, whole hillsides of apple trees in blossom, pinks and whites and the hum of bees. New ration cards would be issued. Anyone in Vergers failing to attend would therefore no longer receive a share of the permitted food.
Often the occupying army traveled with its dogs, large, unfriendly, brown-and-black animals. At rest they were pretty, with bushy tails and ears that rose and curled like tulip petals. Around the villagers, though, the dogs snapped like wolves, curling their lips to show their teeth. Sometimes the soldiers took the animals for walks in the lanes, and if they passed a villager the dogs would lunge at their leashes. Odette said she would gladly kick one of them, except that it would probably bite off her leg.
That day the dogs were tethered at the edge of the square, one private standing by as they growled and paced as far as their constraints allowed. Leading Mémé to the opposite side, Emma passed Marie and Fleur a step behind the bulk of Guillaume, who was discussing with the Goat whether the soldiers deliberately tormented the animals, to keep them in a constant snarl.
The veterinarian bowed to Emma but she did not greet him. Nor did she tell him about the knife strapped to her leg.
“Cage an animal,” Guillaume was saying, “train it in frustration, teach it subservience when all its breed has ever known is freedom, and you will cultivate creatures like this.”
The Goat nodded. “Maybe they are doing that to us, too.”
Yet all was orderly as the villagers assembled. The Argent couple made a late arrival, but that reflected how they generally kept to themselves. They only left their stone palace on the bluff—mansions on either side commandeered by the occupying army, communications wires webbing in all directions from their rooftops, their home exempt because it lacked electricity—when it was time to join the queue for rations. Everyone observed as the husband became more solicitous to his wife, and her belly grew round as though a half-moon had affixed itself to her spine, which caused Emma to bask in the remaining wisdom of her grandmother. As they joined the crowd now, the young woman’s visible pregnancy inspired the village’s gossiping biddies to draw aside a few steps—so that their queen bee could scold about indulging during wartime in pleasures of the flesh, and the others could tsk and cluck.
At last the Kommandant appeared on the top step of town hall, as stiff as a fence post. Officers flanked him in descending order of rank, Thalheim lowest on one end, the pencil-thin mustache officer on the other. Those two, Emma mused, all swagger and display, but in truth they were pawns.
An officer midway up the ranks came forward and called for quiet. Once the crowd settled, the Kommandant began.
“The rations process has become disorderly,” he said in their language, his pronunciation excellent. “Also there is the potential for corruption. You people do not follow directions.”
“Or choose not to,” Odette muttered, causing a titter among people in her vicinity. The Kommandant raised an eyebrow, and soldiers turned in the disturbance’s direction. Silence returned.