The Fool - 0

Section of a Novella from Tarot Blanco

Dedicated to @gutenberg.org

Hail and revele last eurkea.

Quite unique is nothing.

Snow Upon the mountain tops but rocks along the path that Lieutenant Maréchal and Lieutenant Rosenthal placed foot over foot upon. A white dog yapped after them following closely. Perhaps he was hoping for a morsel. Maréchal looked around at the blue spruce that covered the lower mountain tops and wondered whether they were yet in Switzerland retreating from the cold German foothills. But he sensed that they were still in Germany because the mountains were in front of them and they had four others to go to climb the brown steps into heaven.

Rosenthal was carrying a white flour in his left hand and a stick with some sandwiches that they had gotten from the last place that they felt confident to enter. It was a single-room cottage, On a plot of land with no snow around it and the stoneway cleared. They entered and found it with a dining room and bedroom all in one.

They were startled by the peasant woman sitting behind the table doing knitting. There was a hesitation because it was very clear that both the woman and the two officers were both frightened. The officers had good reason to be frightened because they were wearing the uniforms of the French Air Force, such as it was in those days of 1917, and they were in occupied territory.

But why was the woman startled? At first, neither of the two officers knew all they saw was a woman in the voluminous way of a peasant dress with one hand clenched on the table and the other one still holding a knitting needle. But then it was Rosenthal who noticed several pictures on the overhang of the chimney which were all of men and there was no clothing for males. He tried to say something in French: “Is this your husband and the two younger men are your children?”

There was staring from the woman who clearly did not speak French in the least. So Maréchal made a crude attempt in what German he spoke: “Pictures? Your husband? Your children?” this at least produced a series of nods. Then she put a hand into her pocket and fished around to produce three letters that were all from different branches of the German high command, each of them was short and sharp and to the point. The two Frenchmen guessed what they said: they were a missive that the man in question was deceased.

The two Frenchmen turned towards each other and Rosenthal spoke first: “It seems that her husband and her sons were killed at the great victory which was heard was Verdun.” At this point, the woman spat out the German for great victory and almost spat upon the floor because she too had heard it was a great victory for her side. And she, obviously, disagreed. Propaganda has its own language which all can understand.

Then Maréchal looked at the fireplace. He noted that there were three other pictures on the fireplace mantle and they looked too similar to be anything other than brothers or uncles or cousins. “She not only lost her husband and two sons but three others. He turned to the woman:

“The others?”

Then slowly in German, the woman spoke: “I lost a husband, two sons, and three brothers all at the same battle.” It took three tries but they finally understood, a little. There was a softness in Maréchal’s eyes.

It was then that Rosenthal turned to Maréchal: “I know that the French to win the battle, and we heard about the casualties on both sides.”

“We heard, she lived.”

The woman was trying to figure out what they said in French but how much she understood was unknown to the two French fliers. But then she saw that Maréchal was injured in his foot and she proceeded to roll down the bed and say something that they assumed was an invitation for the two of them to lie down.

“She understands that your foot is injured.”

“All women are more observant towards the injuries that men have.”

“Apparently so.”

In the night there was a sound and from the lantern, they knew it was a German patrol. It was at that point that the woman hid them inside the broom closet and made it look as if she was settled down for the night, but alone.

The door was rapped upon. She answered in German “Who is this?”

“We are the two sentries patrolling the area. We are looking for two escaped prisoners.”

The woman shook her head.

One of the sentries asked: “What is your name, mine Frau?”

“Elsa.”

The sentry looked around the room and noticed the pictures on the mantle. The he said: “I lost my brother at the Marne.” Elsa only nodded with a flat demeanor in her mouth.

The two sentries looked at each other with suspicion but did not search the cottage. And then they left.

In the morning, the two fliers departed with their bag filled with melted cheese and tomato sandwiches. Rosenthal had taken a skirt because his uniform was too dilapidated to keep out the cold, the skirt was festooned with cold crowns and hearts and on the inside was warmed by a red felt that kept him at least somewhat warm.

They tracked to the top and they felt sure that if the Swiss border was not behind them it could not be that far ahead. Rosenthal skipped down the stone slates but Maréchal was hesitant because his foot screened in a quiet pain. At first, Rosenthal skipped ahead not worrying about his friend because the line was visible on the tablets. It was only a few hundred meters until freedom was upon him. Even the dog was excited.

But then about half a kilometer behind them came the German sentries because they were suspicious and finally found clues as to which road the two had taken. One aimed his rifle and it did not hit the two fliers. But it hit the dog. And there was a moment of silence.

The sentry then loaded again.

At this point, Rosenthal went back and lugged Maréchal. They were close but another shot would still be attempted. So they continued to drag themselves towards the border. Then Rosenthal looked back in the snow and he saw something amazing, the second century was arguing not to shoot. There was a photo waving in the breeze on the sentry’s hand.

The two French fliers could only guess that the dead had saved the living.