J. Janes - Gypsy

‘Jean-Louis …’ began Gabrielle only to hear him caution her with, ‘Wait, please. What have we come upon?’

The ancient leather trunks and suitcases, the wooden boxes, had all been opened and dumped in a mad search for gold coins. The men would have been herded to one end of the hall, the women and children to the other. Sandals, broken shoes, sabots, old rubber boots – all of it was here.

Stripped of their gold, the gypsies had been loaded on to lorries and taken from this place.

And now? he asked himself.

He picked up a photograph from among the scattered hundreds. The long, drooping moustache, heavy gold rings, gold coins hanging from the watch chain across the waistcoat, fedora, crumpled dark suit jacket, wide corduroy trousers and riding boots were those of a Rom Baro . ‘Tshaya’s father,’ he said. A sweat-stained silk kerchief of dark colour was knotted around the neck.

‘Did she turn them all in?’ he asked of Tshaya. ‘Did that husband of hers force her to tell him where her family was in hiding? Is this why the Spade was murdered in such a horrible fashion?’

He took a moment and then told them the worst of his thoughts. ‘Boemelburg must have known of the round-up and yet has said nothing of it to us.’ Instead, Walter had let him and Hermann believe the Gestapo and the SS had had no prior knowledge of this place or of what had happened here.

Some granular snow struck the shattered remains of a window, startling them. Suzanne-Cecilia found his hand to grip it tightly. Gabrielle moved closer.

‘There are no recent tracks,’ he said emptily. ‘Has no one been in here since it happened?’

‘The chapel then,’ said Gabrielle in a whisper. ‘Perhaps they are using it.’

‘ For what !’ he asked, alarmed.

‘For her trial and … and as a last redoubt.’

‘But … but how is it that you know of this?’ he bleated.

‘I don’t. I’m only suggesting it.’

For two days he and Hermann had been absent from Paris. Gestapo surveillance of the reseau had been slack and had only been stepped up on their return. Had this given Gabrielle and the others an opportunity to travel unnoticed?

The Spade had been murdered; the Generalmajor had been given a cyanide capsule and told what ? he wondered. The truth !

‘Where is the chapel?’ he asked, sickened by his thoughts. ‘Show me, please.’

Neither of these two resistants argued with him. In single file, with Gabrielle leading, they picked their way among the rubbish to a far portal. He did not know if Hermann and Nana had been killed, only that the shots they had heard had come from a rifle.

And now? he asked himself. What will we find?

Half hidden among the barren branches and undergrowth, and at a distance of perhaps 200 metres, the bleached grey ribs of six large caravans stared emptily at the sky. Tensely Kohler let his gaze sift questioningly over them, understanding only too well what must have happened. There had been no recent tracks in the overgrown orchard and gardens, no tripwires, not even snares for rabbits or signs of wood-gathering.

The ruins just beyond the caravans were quiet. The air was clean and sharp – there wasn’t a hint of hastily extinguished cooking fires nor of tethered horses.

Nana Theleme could not seem to take her eyes from the caravans. ‘There is scattered clothing,’ she said hesitantly.

They could go round the carvans, they could head for them. The belfry of the chapel was some distance to their right. She started for it. He heard her suck in a startled breath when held back by him.

‘Were the girls and young women raped?’ he asked.

Stiffening, she answered fiercely, ‘ How could I possibly know ?’

‘Let’s have a look at what’s left. Now start telling me about De Vries, like I asked. I want everything.’

‘He … he was always gentle and kind and had such a sense of humour but was mischievous. He … he loved Tshaya’s father as his own and was adopted by him.’

‘And Tshaya – how did he feel towards her?’

‘She was forbidden. She was not for him. When she was fourteen her father agreed to marry her off to someone younger from a neighbouring kumpania . They were third cousins, I think. Tshaya wanted no part of the boy but the bride-price had been paid and was soon spent lavishly on drink and food to celebrate.’

Kohler helped her over some fallen branches. ‘So she ran off to Paris after Janwillem.’

‘At the age of fifteen, and has been running after him ever since.’

Kohler pulled her to a stop. ‘She disgraced her family yet they took her back when the Spade came for her?’

Nana’s head was shaken. ‘She was considered marhime , as was her family.’

‘So her father let the Spade beat her?’

Why must he demand answers now? ‘Janwillem wasn’t there to stop it, nor do I think he could have, though he always regretted his not having done so.’

A sigh was given. ‘The kumpaniyi gathered and had a trial,’ said Kohler. ‘Her father was a Rom Baro . They threw her out. They banished her but De Vries still loved her.’

‘Not in that way. To him she was like a sister. It was she who wanted him as a woman wants a man.’

‘You’re only saying that because he left you for her.’

‘To commit a robbery, yes, but has he now discovered the truth about her? Has he ?’ she demanded.

‘And what of the others who are supposed to be with them? What of the three who went from the quarry to Paris in Gabrielle’s car?’

What of the car and of the explosives? ‘I … I don’t know. I … I wish I did.’

Once among the caravans, it was easy to see what had happened. There were human remains among the bloodstained, torn and rodent-infested eiderdowns and dresses. Some of the braids had come undone, others were tied together …

‘Come on, let’s find Louis and get this over with.’

‘Look, I’m … I’m sorry I spoke out like that. All I want is to see Janwillem a last time. When he hears what I have to tell him, he’ll understand I didn’t betray him, nor would I ever have done such a thing.’

Oslo, 20 April 1938, then the Mollergaten-19, prisoner 3266, cell D2 and cell C27. Well over four years until Herr Max paid visit after visit to finally offer a Gaje deal that couldn’t be refused.

‘He must have told Tshaya we were to have a child and be married. This … this she could not allow.’

With the stirring of the wind, the snow was gently swept across the floor of the arcade. Depressions were soon filled; others uncovered. Footprints led down the length of it to a staircase. St-Cyr hesitated. Alarmed, he strained to listen. There were at least two sets of footprints. Were De Vries and Tshaya waiting for them in the chapel? The others? he asked. Were there tripwires?

Gabrielle’s eyes, of the softest shade of violet, were full of apprehension. Suzanne-Cecilia gazed warily at him, searching for the slightest sign of what ? he demanded and wished again that they had confided fully in him and Hermann. Was it doubt she sought? he wondered.

He went on. They had to follow. And when he crouched to pass exploring fingers over one of the footprints, he looked up first to Gabrielle and then to Suzanne-Cecilia with only the heartfelt sadness of a detective doing his job.

‘These are at least two days old,’ he said. Whispering to themselves, they trailed behind – he could hear them doing so. Are there no guns? he cried out silently to them. No other gypsies? Ah damn you, damn you. I thought you were my friends.

Light bathed the little chapel, passing through a ragged hole in its once eloquently decorated ceiling where faint black swallows still flew in premonkish paint.