At the Sign of the Sword: A Story of Love and War in Belgium

The girl stared into the face of her rescuer.

It was Edmond – Edmond —her own dear Edmond– and dressed as a Bavarian!

“The infernal spy!” he cried in a hard, rough voice. “I caught the fellow just in time, my darling. For two years past I have known the truth – that in addition to being our worst enemy – he has also been a traitor to our King and country, and your father’s false friend.”

“But Edmond?” gasped the girl, staring at him like one in a dream. “Why are you here – dressed as a German?”

“Hush!” he whispered. “If I am caught I shall be shot as a spy! I must not talk, or I may betray myself. Come with me. We must get back at once to the Belgian line.”

“But – but how?” she gasped, for now the truth had dawned upon her – the truth of the great risk her lover ran in penetrating to the invested town.

“Come with me. Have no fear, my darling. If God wills that we die, we will at least die together. Come,” he whispered, “appear as though you go with me unwillingly, or somebody may suspect us. Come along now,” he shouted, and taking her wrist roughly pretended to drag her forth into the street, where dead men and women were lying about in the roadway, and the houses only a few yards away were already ablaze.

He dragged her along that narrow street, so full of haunting horrors, urging her beneath his breath to pretend a deadly hatred of him. They passed crowds of drunken Germans. Some were smashing in windows with the butt ends of their rifles, and pouring petrol into the rooms from cans which others carried. Others were dragging along women and girls, or forcing them to march before them at the points of bayonets, and laughing immoderately at the terror such proceeding caused.

A swaggering young officer of the Seventieth Regiment of the Rhine staggered past them with a champagne bottle in his hand. He addressed some command to Edmond Valentin.

For a second Aimée’s heart stood still. But Edmond, seeing that the lieutenant was intoxicated, merely saluted and passed on, hurrying round the corner into the square where, against the wall near the church, they saw a line of bodies – the bodies of those innocent townspeople whom the bloodthirsty horde had swept out of existence with their machine-guns.

On every side ugly stains of blood showed upon the stones. A dark red stream trickled slowly into the gutters, so awful had been the massacre an hour before.

As they crossed the square they witnessed a frightful scene. Some men and women, who had hidden in a cellar, were driven out upon the pavement ruthlessly, and shot down. The officer who gave the order, smoking a cigarette and laughing the while.

Aimée stood for a second with closed eyes, not bearing to witness such a fearful sight. Those shrill cries of despair from the terrified women and children rang in her ears for a moment. Then the rifles crackled, and there were no more cries – only a huddled heap of dead humanity.

Edmond dragged her forward. German soldiers whom they passed laughed merrily at the conquest apparently made by one of their comrades.

And as they went by the ruined church, and out upon the road towards Leffe, the scene of pillage and drunkenness that met their eyes, was indeed revolting.

Though the Belgian Government has since issued an official report to the Powers concerning the wild orgies of that awful day in Dinant, the story, in all its true hideousness, will, perhaps, never be known. Those seven hundred or so poor creatures who could testify to the fiendish torture practised upon them: how some were mutilated, outraged, bound, covered with straw and burned alive, and even buried alive, are all in their graves, their lips, alas! sealed for ever.

Another officer, a major of the Seventeenth Uhlans, rode past, and Edmond saluted. They were, indeed, treading dangerous ground.

If Edmond were discovered, both he and she would be shot as spies against the nearest wall.

How she refrained from fainting she knew not. But she bore that terrible ordeal bravely, her spirit sustained by her great, boundless love for the man at her side.

The road they had taken led by the river-bank, and just as a body of Uhlans had clattered past, raising a cloud of dust, they saw across the hills at Bouvigne, a heliograph at work, signalling towards Namur.

Above them a Taube aeroplane was slowly circling.

Chapter Seventeen.

In Deadly Peril

Not only was Dinant itself being decimated, but in the Faubourg of Leffe, through which they were now passing, the German soldiers, the majority of them infantrymen wearing on their caps the green and white cockade denoting that they were from Saxony, including also many from Baden, were busy pillaging the houses, and in one spot an officer had drawn up a number of terrified women and children, and was compelling them to cry “Vive l’Allemagne!” Each house, after being sacked, was systematically burned down.

In safety they passed through all the terrors which filled the little place, yet in fear each moment of detection. But the soldiers and officers seemed so intent upon their fell work of wanton destruction that, happily, no notice was taken of the fugitives. At last they gained the high road which, following the bold of the Meuse, ran in the direction of Namur. Ten miles or so beyond lay the German front, and that would have to be passed, if they were to escape with their lives.

On the road were many German soldiers, and passing them constantly were rumbling guns, ammunition-wagons, and motor-cars containing staff-officers.

Aimée knew the roads in the vicinity well, and in a whisper suggested that they should turn off into a narrow lane on the right. She knew of a path which led through the wood to a village called Assesse, she said.

“Assesse!” echoed her lover. “You know the way, darling! Bien, it is near that place we must get. Close by there I hid my Belgian uniform, and dressed in these clothes – clothes I took from a Bavarian shot by us while on outpost duty.”

They turned into the lane, where they found themselves alone.

“I think,” the girl said, “that it would be best if we did not walk together. We might be suspected. I will go ahead, and you follow me. It is nearly five miles, but when we enter the wood the path is quite straight, through two other woods and over a brook – until we reach the village.”

“Very well, dearest,” he said, reluctantly obliged to admit that her advice was sound. He would certainly stand a better chance of escape alone, now they were in the open country over which the Germans were swarming, than if they were together. Yet neither could disguise from themselves the fact that their lives now hung by a single thread.

Should any soldier they met accost Edmond, then he would certainly be betrayed, and death would, most assuredly, be their lot.

Having parted, however, the girl, dusty, dishevelled, and hatless, went forward, he following her at a short distance, in fear lest she might fall into the hands of one of the Prussian brutes.

At last, however, they came to the wood, but both noticed that, near by, were half a dozen Uhlans drawn up on outpost duty. They quickly caught sight of the girl, but regarded her as harmless, and then, when Edmond came swinging along, they allowed him also to pass, believing him to be one of their comrades-in-arms.

Within the wood they were practically safe, and had hurried forward a couple of miles, when Aimée suddenly heard voices and loud laughter ahead. A number of Uhlans were riding in single file up the path in their direction, therefore, in an instant she dashed away into the undergrowth until they had passed, an example followed by Edmond.

Then, when the enemy had gone, they once more went forward again, but full of caution lest they should be taken by surprise.

Those five miles were the longest either of them had ever covered, for every yard was full of breathless terror. They knew not where, an outpost might be lurking, for they were gradually approaching the Belgian front.

It was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon when, on emerging from the wood into the hot sunshine again, they found themselves above a tiny whitewashed village, with slated roofs and thin church spire – the village of Assesse.

This place they carefully avoided lest it should be occupied by the enemy, but approaching a field not far away, Edmond said:

“See yonder! darling, that old black shed. In there, my uniform is hidden beneath some straw. Until night comes on I dare not change.”

“Then let us hide in the shed till night,” she suggested. “You can change after dark, and we can then go forward.”

He sighed. The situation was, he knew, critical. “You know the risk we shall run, darling. Are you really prepared for it?”

“I will face any danger at your side, Edmond. You have saved my life to-day, remember, and at imminent risk of your own.”

“Because I love you, my own darling,” was his quick response. “I have thought only of you, and of you alone. I must save you, and God will surely assist me in so doing.”

“Yes. We are in His hands,” she declared fervently. “Let us go over yonder, and hide till it grows dark.”

“But you must be hungry,” he suggested.

“No, Edmond,” she laughed. “Don’t think of me – think of yourself, of your own safety.”

So they crept forward, unobserved, until they reached the shed – a mere shelter for cows. In one corner of the dirty place lay a great heap of mouldering straw, and Edmond, having worked away until he had made a hole large enough to admit them both, they both crept in and lightly covered themselves.

And then, as she found herself in his strong arms, she felt his fond kisses raining upon her brow, fierce, passionate caresses, that told her plainly how deep and how sacred was his great love for her – how strong was his affection and devotion.

For seven long hours they remained there, conversing in whispers, he recounting to her the various engagements in which he had been since the outbreak of the war.