She pulled herself up and raced down the gallery. The nitro-acid stink of explosive was mingled with the biting odour of smoke and burning. The staircase was almost empty. The very last of the wounded were being carried out. As Centaine ran into the yard two of the ambulances, both of them overloaded, pulled out through the gateway and turned down the driveway.
Anna! Centaine screamed. She was strapping the carpet bag and bulging sack on to the roof of one of the ambulances, but she jumped down and ran to Centaine. You must help me, Centaine gasped. It's Papa. Three shells hit the chateau in quick succession, and more burst in the stable field and in the gardens. The German observers must have noted the activity around the building. Their batteries were finding the range.
Where is he? Anna ignored the shellfire.
Upstairs. Mama's dressing-room. He is mad, Anna.
Mad drunk. I cannot move him. The moment they entered the house they smelt the smoke, and as they climbed the stairs the stench became stronger and dense wreaths of it eddied about them. By the time they reached the second level, they were both coughing and wheezing for breath.
The gallery was thick with smoke, so they could not see more than a dozen paces ahead, and through the smoke shone a wavering orange glow, the fire had taken hold in the front rooms and was burning through the doors.
Go back, Anna gasped, I will find him. Centaine shook her head stubbornly and started down the gallery. Another salvo of howitzer fire crashed into the chdteau, and part of the gallery wall collapsed, partially blocking it, and swirling brick dust mingled with the dense smoke, blinding them so that they crouched at the head of the staircase.
It cleared slightly and again they ran forward, but the opening that had been torn in the wall acted as a flue for the flames. They roared up furiously and the heat came at them like a solid thing, barring their way.
Papa! screamed Centaine, as they cringed away from it. Papa! Where are you? The floor jumped under them as more shellfire hit the ancient building, and they were deafened by the thunder of collapsing walls and falling ceilings, and by the rising roar of the flames.
Tapa! Centaine's voice was almost drowned, but Anna bellowed over her.
Louis, veins, ch&i, come to me, darling. Even in her distress, Centaine realized that she had never heard Anna use an endearment to her father. It seemed to summon him.
Through the smoke and the dust the comte loomed.
Flames roared all around him, rising around his feet as the floorboards burned, licking at him from the panelled walls, and smoke covered him in a dark mantle, so that he seemed like a creature from hell itself.
His mouth was open and he was making a wild, anguished sound.
He is singing, whispered Anna. The Marseillaise. To arms, Citizens!
Form the ship of State. Only then did Centaine recognize the garbled chorus.
Let an impure blood swirl in the gutters-, The words became indistinguishable, and the comte's voice weakened as the heat enveloped him. The rifle he was carrying slipped from his hand, and he fell and dragged himself up and began to crawl towards them. Centaine tried to go to him again, but the heat stopped her dead and Anna pulled her back.
Dark brown blotches began to appear on her father's shirt, as the white linen scorched, but still that terrible sound came from his open mouth, and still he crawled along the burning floor of the gallery, Suddenly the thick dark bush of his hair burst into flames, so that it seemed that he wore a golden crown.
Centaine could not look away, could not speak again, but she clung helplessly to Anna and felt the sobs wracking the older woman's body, and the arm around Centaine's shoulder tightened so that the grip was crushingly painful.
Then the floor of the gallery gave way beneath her father's weight, and the burning floorboards o ened like a dark mouth with fangs of fire and sucked him in.
No! Centaine shrieked, and Anna lifted her off her feet and ran with her to the head of the stairs. Anna was still sobbing and tears streamed down her fat red cheeks, but her strength was unimpaired.
Behind them part of the burning ceiling fell, taking the rest of the gallery floor with it, and Anna set Centaine on her feet and dragged her down the staircase. The smoke cleared as they went down, and at last they burst out into the yard again, and sucked in the sweet air.
The chateau was in flames from end to end, and shellfire still crashed into it or burst in tall columns of smoke and singing shrapnel upon the lawns and in the surrounding fields.
Bobby Clarke was supervising the loading of the last ambulances, but his face lit with relief as he saw Centaine, and he ran to her. The flames had frizzled the ends of her hair and scorched her eyelashes, soot streaked her cheeks.
We have to get out of here, where is your father? Bobby took her arm.
She could not answer him. She was shaking and the smoke had burned her throat and her eyes were red and streaming tears. Is he coming? She shook her head and saw the quick sympathy in his expression. He glanced up at the flaming building.
He took her other arm and led her towards the nearest ambulance.
Nuage, Centaine croaked. My horse. Her voice was roughened by smoke and shock.
No- Bobby Clarke said sharply and tried to hold her, but she pulled out of his grip and ran towards the stable paddock. Nuage! She tried to whistle, but no sound came through her parched lips, and Bobby Clarke caught up with her at the paddock gate.
Don't go in there! His voice was desperate, and he held her.
Confused and bewildered, she craned to look over the gate.
No, Centaine! He pulled her back, and she saw the horse and screamed.
Nuage! The rushing roar and thunder of another salvo drowned out her heart cry, but she fought in his grip.
Nuage! she screamed again, and the stallion lifted his head. He lay upon his side; one of the shell bursts had shattered both his back legs and ripped open his belly.
Nuage! He heard her voice and he tried to lift himself on to his forefeet, but the effort was too much and he fell back. His head thudded on the earth and he blew a soft fluttering sound through his wide nostrils.
Anna ran to help Bobby and between them they dragged Centaine to the waiting ambulance.
You can't leave him like that! she pleaded, trying with all her might to resist them. Please, please, don't leave him to suffer. Another salvo of shells straddled the yard, driving in their eardrums and filling the air around them with hissing chips of stone and steel fragments. No time, Bobby grunted, we must go. They forced Centaine into the rear of the vehicle, between the tiers of stretchers, and crowded in after her.
immediately the driver clashed the gears and pulled away, the ambulance swung in a tight circle, bouncing over the cobbles, and then accelerated through the gateway and out into the driveway.
Centaine dragged herself to the tailboard of the speeding vehicle and looked back at the chateau. The flames were rushing up through the shell holes in the pink tiles, and dark black smoke towered above it, rising straight up into the sunlit sky.
Everything, Centaine whispered. You've taken everything that I love.
Why? Oh Lord, why have you done this to me?
Ahead of them the other vehicles had pulled off the road at the edge of the forest, and parked under the trees to avoid the shellfire. Bobby Clarke jumped down and ran to each in turn, giving orders to the drivers and regrouping them into a convoy. Then, with his own vehicle in the lead, they sped down to the crossroads and turned into the main road.