The 31 Kings Episode 24

As Leconte translated the last sentence, Thomas bowed his head in prayer. At the sight of this, the French soldiers removed their caps and did likewise. “The Lord is my shepherd,” Thomas began, “I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters.”

Even without prompting from their commander, the soldiers recognised the ancient psalm and joined in in their own tongue.

“Il restaure mon âme, Il me conduit dans les sentiers de la justice, à cause de son nom.”

Familiar with the words from our own childhoods, the Die-hards and I joined in. All of the voices, English and French, filling the great hall took on a sombre resonance, like the harmony of a choir.

“Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.”

“Tu dresses devant moi une table, en face de mes adversaires; Tu oins d’huile ma tête, et ma coupe déborde.” From the far distance came the first boom of artillery, but the centuries-old song of David rolled on without a pause.

“Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”

A final “Amen” arose from everyone at once and the concluding silence hung upon the air like a blessing. Another crash of artillery sounded from beyond the walls and Leconte gave the order for battle. The soldiers crossed themselves, replaced their caps and began to disperse to their assigned positions.

“I’ve never been much for churches,” Dougal told Thomas, “but you lend a manly vigour to your Bible talk that makes it as bracing as a shot of the best malt.”

“Your words were well chosen,” I complimented the chaplain, “and so was your prayer. I feel quite bad about leaving.”

“And from the sound of those guns outside,” said Jaikie, “we don’t have much time to get clear.”

Briskly we followed Dougal out to a garage that lay adjacent to the west wing of the château. He presented us with our transport, a blue limousine.

“It’s a Delage D8,” he said, jumping onto the running board. “We’re travelling in style today, boys. She’s fuelled up and ready to go.”

We stowed our gear in the back and Dougal got behind the wheel.

“Could you not find a chauffeur’s uniform?” Peter quipped.

The driver grinned. “Another crack like that, Peter, and you’ll be walking to Paris.”

I joined him up front while the other Die-hards climbed into the rear seats.

The engine spluttered once or twice then purred smoothly as we rolled out onto the driveway. The guards at the gate saluted as we passed by.

“That’s a fine bunch of lads back there,” said Dougal. “I’d half a mind to stick with them, but we’ve our own fish to fry.”

“I’m sure there’s a fight ahead of us, if that’s what you want,” said Jaikie.

“I never thought I’d be caught up in another war in France,” I said. “I expect many brave men will die before it’s over.”

“This time we need to be sure there’s a better world at the end of it,” said Dougal vehemently. “There’s plenty of us won’t stand by and let the politicians and the businessmen help themselves to the peace.”

“You might go in for politics yourself then,” Thomas suggested quietly, “if you’re wanting to remake the world.”

“Ach, I’ve toyed with the notion,” said Dougal, “but I’d be no good at it. There’s no man alive I won’t offend at some point with the fire and vinegar of my views.

“Talking sweet and oily to win votes would sit ill with me. No, put me at the head of a mob and I’ll storm the doors of Parliament, or point me towards the

barricade and I’ll be the first man to leap on to it. But don’t ask me to go from stump to stump telling each man whatever it is he wants to hear.

“I’d be calling them rogues and wasters and expect them to cheer me for it.”

“Well, if ever the times called for a man of action instead of talk,” said Jaikie, “this is it.”

“You know,” said Peter, “you do see some queer sights in wartime. I mind that time we were beating a hasty retreat towards Le Transloy, marching by night to avoid the bombers. There were fires still burning from the day’s shelling, and that helped to light the way. At one point our leading section stopped dead and I went to find out what was up. Everybody was listening to a squeaking noise that was coming towards us. After a few moments out of the smoke and darkness came a soldier in a Balmoral, swinging a tin bucket at his side. It was that that was making the noise.

“‘Man, where in hell do you think you’re going?’ I asked him. Says he, showing me his rusty pail, ‘Ah’m looking for a coo tae mulk.’ ‘Well, you’d best turn around,’ I told him, ‘because there’s nothing behind us but Germans.’ ‘Fair enough,’ says he. ‘There’s another ferm further back. I’ll try that.’

“Around he turns and off he goes, completely unperturbed, like he was taking a stroll down a farm path in Perthshire or Angus!”

There was a short burst of laughter in the car, then we heard the drone of an aircraft passing high overhead. Friend or foe, we could not tell. Behind us, we knew, the armoured might of Germany was advancing in an inexorable tide.

Ahead of us lay Paris – and the secret of the thirty- one kings.

Paris

Even as we entered the outskirts of Paris we perceived the sense of doom hanging over the city. There were few people on the streets. Now and then we glimpsed nervous faces peeking out from behind half closed curtains, as if these lingering citizens were afraid of what they might see passing.

There were very few motor vehicles about and almost no one on foot. Even cyclists were few and far between and none of those had the jaunty air they were accustomed to display as they wove casually through the traffic. Some shops were still open for business, but many had shutters over the window and notices on the door announcing they were closed for the duration of the “emergency”.

Talking sweet and oily to win votes would sit ill with me. No, put me at the head of a mob and I’ll storm the doors of Parliament

More tomorrow.

The Thirty-one Kings by Robert J Harris is published by Polygon and available in ebook and audio formats. His latest novels are Buchan-inspired adventure Castle Macnab, (£8.99, pbk) and A Study in Crimson, a new Sherlock Holmes mystery (£12.99, hbk) birlinn.co.uk