All That Glitters. Martine Desjardins
me. To my great mortification, she knows it.”
“She is that beautiful?”
“Beautiful? I couldn’t say. But she knows how to handle a needle. And those fingers of hers, Dulac … They are the fingers of a sorceress.”
V
OUR CONTINGENT SAILED from Bristol five days ago, and still the French coast lay over the horizon. One would have thought the Channel was as broad as the Atlantic! Battered by thirty-foot waves, our troop carriers pitched and tossed without respite on the frothing seas. Further on, the four destroyers assigned to convoy escort duty thrashed about in the storm.
Clinging for dear life to the rail, I made a poor sentinel indeed. U-boats had been detected in the area, and I had been given strict orders to shoot the first reckless soldier who dared light a cigarette on deck. A needless precaution, in any event, for nothing could have been farther from the men’s minds. They were all far below decks, as weakened by the constant pitching and tossing as I was.
All except for Lieutenant Peakes, who was in fine fettle. The day before yesterday, he had gone to the infirmary to have a nasty cut treated. An hour later he had returned to duty, as proud as a peacock, sleeve rolled up, displaying his forearm, to whistles of admiration.
“What do you say, Dulac? Better than any tattoo, eh?”
On his discoloured skin, like an insignia, he now bore three snow-covered mountain tops. They had been embroidered with suturing thread. I immediately recognized the extraordinary meticulousness with which each petit point had been sewn, depicting to perfection the whiteness of the snow and the blackness of the rock. In the face of such mastery, I could only stare open-mouthed in admiration.
“The work of a sorceress, lieutenant. But why the mountains?”
“They are peaks, Dulac. That which is loftiest, and most noble, as Miss Nell puts it—and also my name.”
The day was dying slowly. The storm had abated, but the ships continued to pitch and toss as violently as ever. I would have given anything to set foot on terra firma. Heart in mouth, I doubled over the guardrail, rivulets of warm saliva dribbling from my lips. I pressed my index finger against my uvula, but could provoke nothing more than painful spasms.
Suddenly, from behind me came an outburst of mocking laughter that sounded like the mewing of a seagull.
“So now you are a military policeman? The red armband doesn’t really compliment your green complexion.”
I swallowed laboriously before turning around. There she was: Miss Nell, alert, with a malicious cast in her eye. Her coif, drenched with spray, framed her face, giving her the appearance of a Madonna. Appearances could hardly have been more deceiving.
“I don’t have my sea legs just yet.”
“Don’t tell me the devil has abandoned you already. What a pity! And what sweet revenge for me.”
Her head swayed as she shifted her weight from one hip to the other to keep her balance. I motioned to her to stop.
“I know what you’re trying to do. You want to worsen my condition. You are neglecting your most elementary duties, and I shall report you to your superiors.”
“Even if I wanted to treat you, there is no remedy for seasickness. On the other hand … ”
She rummaged through her pocket and from it drew a small sewing kit.
“Stitching up your lips would help suppress the symptoms.”
I recoiled.
“No, thank you. I have no desire to end up with Lake Superior embroidered on my face.”
“Why Lake Superior?”
“Dulac, of course. My name is Dulac.”
“I see. Lieutenant Peakes must have showed you his arm.”
“I knew about your talents, but I must say that in his case, you’ve outdone yourself.”
The compliment hardly seemed to impress her. She dismissed it with a shrug of the shoulders.
“Just a little diversion to keep my fingers busy.”
Seasickness was about to overcome me again; I could feel it welling up in my throat. Just then, the troop carrier hit a particularly powerful swell, for the entire deck seemed to shudder beneath my feet. To avoid being thrown into my arms, Nell grasped the handrail. The sewing kit popped from her hand and fell overboard. Now it was my turn to laugh derisively.
“A bad omen for your surgical schemes.”
“I didn’t take you for a superstitious person.”
“You are right. But I believe in Divine Providence.”
She turned on her heel and strode off, furious, then turned back.
“Now that you mention it, Lake Superior would not have been my choice for you.”
“Devil’s Lake, then?”
“No. Beaver Lake.”
VI
IT TOOK ALMOST an entire week for the horde of aboriginals transported from the far corners of the Empire to unload our vessels. On the docks of Saint-Nazaire, the munitions crates alone formed pyramids fifty storeys high. When the soldiers received the order to carry them to the railway station, they believed they were being made sport of.
One of them shouted, “We’re here to fight, not do coolie work!”
Some of the men cheered, while others began to beat on the munitions crates. The situation was beginning to deteriorate. Peakes rolled up his sleeves and motioned me to follow him.
Paying no attention to the shoulders he jostled, he strode through the milling crowd, fully erect, stroking his embroidered arm with a dangerously calm air. When the men laid eyes upon him, they turned strangely timid, and even the loudest voices died down. Where had the lieutenant drawn that sudden authority, I wondered. Was it his imposing stature? His iron will? Neither, in the event. No, it came from the mark of gallantry he bore on his forearm, which proclaimed in no uncertain terms that he had faced that which most of his men—who were nonetheless prepared to face bayonets—feared above all else: the needle.
Without a word, Peakes cast his eyes all around, then suddenly froze. Something in the distance had caught his attention, something that I, because of my shorter stature, could not see. He turned and handed me his service revolver, even though I had my own.
“I’m handing over command to you. Make sure everyone gets back to work.”
And he strode off briskly. I did not immediately understand why the men had begun to nudge each other with knowing looks. That is, not until I stood on tiptoe and caught sight of a white coif fluttering above the sea of heads.
The lieutenant did not reappear again until we were at the railway station, as the men were filing into the cattle cars that would carry them to Armentières. A crowd had gathered on the platform. There were women wearing double-peaked caps, and chubby-faced children pressing tresses of onions and jugs of cider upon us as parting gifts, cheering as though we had already won the war, though not a single finger had so much as touched a trigger. They could only have been misled by Peakes’s triumphant swagger.
VII
NOT A SOUND could be heard in the ranks, only the crunch of boots over the stubble. I marched straight ahead in time to the rhythmic slapping of the bayonet against my thigh, making short work of the obstacles in the terrain which would suddenly loom out of the fog. At dawn we had been given the order to lead three platoons up to the front lines, and now we were but a few miles from the zone where the great armies were locked in combat. The bell that signalled my baptism of fire had begun to toll.
Suddenly I snapped my head to one side. Something had whistled by, grazing my temple.
“Not