He turned to the Father to inquire further, but was directed in a swift motion to get on board. “He may have more for you. Good luck, and may God be with you both.”
As Eason climbed the short ladder he heard these words emanating from the dory.
Devlesa avilan
________________________________________________
The captain Escorted Percilla below decks, offered tea, which they gracefully accepted.
“You bunk down here,” he said, pointing to adjacent beds on either side of the hull. “First mate’ll be running us. She’s a calm one tonight, thank God. Take us around three hours to reach France.
The captain explained that they will be met by a man, a good man he emphasized, that will escort them on the next leg of their journey.
After finishing their tea, he motioned them into the bunk beds. “Learn to rest when you can,” he said.
The Captain waited until they had settled in, then continued.
“I have information you should know, he said, with a seriousness in voice, “ . . . you have a right - to know.”
He looked toward Eason. “You familiar with the Hun living in your own back yard?
Eason nodded. After the war, a number of German POW’s which were interned in Great Britain elected to stay. They by and large became hard workers, upstanding citizens, and most agreed that they brought a refreshing diversity with their old world customs, food and manners.
However, the Captain continued, since Hitler came to power and gave an edict that all Germans should return the Fatherland to assist in the great cause, there has been Nazi sympathizers infiltrating the island for recruiting and spying purposes, amongst other nefarious things.
He explained the brief history lesson by stating that one who was present in the document discovery, a taller Gentleman with light hair, had ventured into a predominantly German public house on the edge of town that evening he and Percilla left on a train to London.
Thurgood.
This man, with a voice bolstered with drink and a heart singed with rejection proceeded to tell anyone who would listen He talked about a dear John letter, a parchment they discovered that in his words, ‘this half breed gypsy’ took its contents with serious intent.
Most patrons considered it to be a very tall tale.
Most in the pub, the Captain said, but not all. One, most likely in an attempt to curry favor with the Nazi’s and knowing the party’s obsession with such matters, took the information and passed it along to Berlin.
“We feel this is the cause of the immediate resistance to the completion your journey.”
The Captain enumerated that outside of a stern warning to hold his tongue, delivered outside of town by a trio of rather large followers, no harm would come to this man; for it was determined that he spoke in innocence and knew not of the magnitude of his betrayal. However he will be watched.
“Try to get some sleep,” the Captain finished. “I’ll wake you just before we arrive.”
**
Percilla waited until the Captain went topside, then asked, “Eason, what is a dear John letter?”
“A good bye letter. A letter of rejection,” he answered.
“Oh.- Dear. My letter to Thurgood-I wrote nothing of the kind.”
“Knowing my cousin as I do,” Eason said, “I suspect that in his state of inebriation he received the addressed envelope, and without reading its contents, assumed the worse.”
“I do hope the poor dear reads it,” Percilla said, “I would hate to have him think as such.”
Eason added, “Not to worry. Thurgood does relish his bouts of self pity.”
“And those men who confronted him. I hope he came to no harm.”
Somewhat puzzled by her words, Eason answered, “according to the Captain, all he received was a warning. And well deserved,” he added, “ in my opinion.”
Percilla turned and faced the hull of the boat. Eason, feeling the damp chill of the channel, pulled the rough wool blanket tight to his shoulders.
Such a confusing contrast, he thought, as he closed his eyes. She has gone from a warm estate, silk sheets, with maids and servants to provide all manners of comfort, to the bunk of a dank trawler in the middle of the channel. Not to mention the other inconveniences of the last few days. And being shot at!
Yet she took it all in stride, like a trooper.
He more than just admired her new found continence, he drew strength from it.
However this sudden concern for Thurgood, his vain, narcissistic cousin, who continues to live in luxury and takes full advantage of his station, baffled him.
He once again thought of his commitment, both to this journey and after, to himself.
Those thoughts helped to calm him, by reflecting from his mind the the harrowing itinerary of these past few days. Soon the weariness of the day took over and he succumbed to sleep.
****
It seemed like mere seconds before Eason felt a shake on his shoulder and the smell of strong tea.
He sat up in a grog, as the Captain put placed the cup in a gimbaled holder affixed next to bunk. “Your Lady’s in the head,” he told a sleep ridden Eason, “I suggest you hit it too, then drink this down. We’ll be at our stop in a few.”
The - head?”Eason said, as he tried to blink the sleep off.
“The crapper,” The Captain answered, then pointed.”Out that door, forward past the wheelhouse to starboard.”
The Captain Saw Eason’s befuddlement. “Just follow your nose, Mate” he grinned, “But hurry.”
* *
Eason and Percilla stood on deck as the Captain and first mate winched overboard a small dingy. Eason saw what looked like a small fire burning from shore, which he judged to be less than a kilometer from their position.
As the Captain lowered their bags to the rowboat, Eason thought about the souls that had assisted them on this quest: most were common men, working men, men, who he, just a few short days past would have eschewed their presence with disdain.
My, he pondered, how things have changed. And Percilla, how different her conduct has been! Yet that late exchange regarding Thurgood still troubled him. Not, as he told himself stiffly, due to her possible lingering feelings for him, but more to the fact that it just did not fit with her ‘new’ demeanor. Or did it?
Perhaps, he wished, that he should live long enough to finally understand women. Then a bit more, he prayed, so he could finally understand himself.
* *
The rhythmic slosh of oars to water eventually beached the dingy in a small inlet. From their position he could see a man, setting cross legged next to the fire, dressed in dark attire, his head capped in a beret set at a jaunty angle.
The Captain pulled the small rowboat to further anchor on shore, then waved to the man. He responded in kind.
Helping them out of the boat, the Captain bade them adieu, with these words: “remember, my friends, there are many praying for you and for your safe completion of this journey. May God Speed.” And with that, the Captain was off.
As they approached the man sitting by the fire, Eason saw that he produced a coin, held it up with his thumb and forefinger, back side out.
Immediately after they responded in kind, he rose, removed his beret with a sweeping flourish motion. “Monsieur,” he said lightly, “Madame, I am Marcelle. I am to be your guide. Please if you will follow me but a short distance, you will find your chariot is waiting.”
A short climb to the top of the slope revealed a large touring car. Marcelle ushered Percilla into the back seat, which would, as he stated, be of more comfort, and Eason climbed into the front.
“Sweet Percilla,” Marcelle stated, as he keyed the engine to life, “ The wicker basket of which you share a seat contains both food and drink. Please partake, both of you. You look as though you are famished.”
They were, and as Marcelle directed the auto car south toward Paris, Percilla distributed portions of bread and cheese to herself and Eason, and poured a heady red wine into goblets to the three.
As they ate and drank the early sun rose from over the eastern hills, illuminating the pastures, farmlands and hedgerows, revealing a smattering of movement as beasts grazed and farmers began their morning tasks.
Marcelle, with one hand on the wheel the other on his wine vessel, guided the vehicle through the country lanes with a speed and deftness of one who had veteran experience in traversed this route.
Eason noted that he was a slim man, of average height, with thick black hair that fringed the edges of his beret in tangled curls. He had dark yet gentle eyes, well spaced, topped by dense eyebrows and a rather prominent nose which crooked slightly to one side and an amicable smile which he did not hesitate to use. Though what outweighed all of his features was the panache he demonstrated with every move and gesture, from a turn of the wheel to a sip of his wine. Eason could not help but like the man.
As they progressed the countryside the air warmed quickly, evaporating the nights dew into a translucent haze which lazily hugged the ground and gave forth a surrealistic tinge to the unfolding scenery.
A sense of tranquility came over the lot fueled by food and wine sated cravings, and supplemented by the burgeoning warmth of the day.
After a time within this state, Marcelle, after glancing at his rear reflector, commented to Eason, “I see that Madame has fallen asleep.”
Eason turned and saw Percilla, her head resting against the wicker basket, and with a mild grin noticed that she was snoring softly.
“Madame such a beautiful Lady, ” Marcelle commented. “I envy you, to have such a resplendent woman.”
“We are simply friends,” Eason interjected swiftly, “Old friends. Since childhood.”
“But there must be more than that, Monsieur Eason. A sacred and unique bond I see, or else why would she choose you to accompany her?”
“She did not,” Eason answered, “others did.”
“Ah, the prophecy,” Marcelle elated. “Once again, the words bear fruition.”
“Tell me about this prophecy,” Eason asked with eagerness.
Marcelle raised his forefinger. “A time and a place, which is not at this moment, my friend. However it is now time I should tell you this: a meeting is being arranged, as we speak, for you two to attend early next morning. Those in attendance will appease your every question and concern, of that I promise you.”
“But for now,” Marcelle continued,” let us enjoy the ride. It has turned into a marvelous day, has it not? and if you would please extract the bottle of brandy hidden in the glove box, we shall drink to this superb day!”
Eason did, and after passing the bottle to Marcelle, inquired, “So tell me, my good man, how does a Frenchman come to get involved in this?”
Marcelle laughed. “you have subjected yourself to a common mistake, my friend. Marcelle, you see is Romany, not French.”
He then flared out the fingers of his right hand. “I, Marcelle, Gypsy by birth, an actor by trade and a knave by choice,” he said with theatrical flair, “and have been very blessed to be a part of this, let me assure you. Exceedingly blessed.”
“And of you my friend,” he continued. “What of you? A traveller no doubt, or perhaps a soldier of fortune, or an adventurer; one who, like I, who craves the mystery and excitement that life offers?”
“I daresay,” Eason answered, in a deep sincerity, “none of what you speak. Is with shame that I inform you that but a few days ago you would consider me nothing more than a dandy. A spoiled, pampered, sheltered child existing in a mans body.”
Marcelle rapped Eason’s leg with his open hand. “Ah, but you now have the perception to understand, to access your position in a truth you did not possess before. Of that I see. And I will predict that you will handle it well, and you will mature with wisdom and realize things about your person that you would never have dreamt of before.”
“I wish I could exude your confidence,” Eason replied.
“Time, my friend, time. Now. If I may remind us both of our present situation: we will arrive at the hotel in a few hours. After a wash, which if I may say, you both need dearly for you smell like spoiled fish.”
He flashed a smile. “Then a good meal, and off to bed for the both of you. The morning will come early. And with it,” he added, “responses to your every question.”
* * * *
The hotel was located in a quiet area off the Left Banke, reserved primarily for small shops and bistros. An older establishment, it showed its age, looking frayed around the edges.
However the rooms were quite spacious, housing a small circular table with chairs, a writing desk and two small beds situated near the window. In addition the room had been recently renovated to include a separate water closet with hot running water, and much to the relief of Percilla and Eason, a large claw foot bathing tub.
Percilla cited ladies first, and retired to bathe.
“You should be safe here,” Marcelle said to Eason,” though I suggest you should stay here with Madame for the night, and that the two of you do not leave the room. No sense in taking chances.”
Eason agreed. “I will be across the hall, “Marcelle continued, “if you need anything. Now, Monsieur, I suggest that you two retire early, for I will fetch you before sunrise for your meeting.
“We will,” Eason said, “And thank you for all your assistance.”
The two men shook hands. “The pleasure in mine, Monsieur Eason.”
Marcelle headed to the door. “I will be leaving to insure that the proper arrangements are made for this meeting, and will return with your dinner. I shall not be too long.”
“Thank you again,” Eason replied.
Marcelle turned, gave a large grin and with a theatrical flair, doffed his cap and bowed.
* * *
Marcelle returned with not only the usual wine, cheese and bread, but with veal in a lemon butter garlic sauce, potato and leek soup and spinach salad.
Bidding them adieu he left the two to enjoy their meal.
They ate with hurried civility, with only a modicum of conversation to interrupt the sounds of silverware on plates.
. . . . . .
“This is delicious,” Percilla stated.
“Yes, yes it is. Quite exquisite.”
. . . . . .
“Marcelle is such a dear.”
“Quite. The Captain said he was a good man, which did not do him justice.”
. . . . . .
“Did he tell you any more about our meeting?”
“Only that we should feel free to ask any questions.”
. . . . . .
“It will be nice to have these mysteries cleared up.”
“Could not agree more.”
. . . . . .
Finally they were finished. Eason distributed the last of the wine, and rose from the table.
“I feel so much better,” Percilla smiled.
“I second that,” Eason said.
“Eason, did you notice if there was a telephone in the lobby?”
“Why no, I did not. Why pray tell, did you ask?”
“I would like to send a cable to Thurgood. Let him know we are safe, and inquire as to his state.”
“Marcelle said we are not to leave the room,” Eason clipped, in an acerbic tone, “And I agree. No sense taking any chances.”
“Then I should pen him a letter, letting him know I am concerned-”
“Concerned?” Eason took a step back. “Concerned? Oh yes, we should all be concerned about poor dear Thurgood! Let him know immediately that his welfare is foremost on our minds!”
“Why yes, poor Thurgood,” Eason continued, with dripping sarcasm. “The dear man has it so rough. Why next to what we’ve been through the poor dear must be positively miserable in his primitive state!”
“Eason, you misunderstood me.”
“Why if I am not mistaken, this is his personals Valet’s day off! Horror of horrors, he might even be forced to wipe his own lazy ass!”
. “Eason!” Percilla screamed. “Calm down, for heaven’s sake!”
“And Let us not forget that your Dear Thurgood placed both you and I in danger by his antics.”
“Unwittingly,” she defended.
“But it is a fact.”
“Oh, Eason,” she groaned,” you do not understand.”
He placed the palms of his hands on the table with force. “Understand this, madame. I will reiterate to you now of my commitment to see this through. This, I promise I will do to the utmost of my ability.
What your feelings are to Thurgood or anyone else for that matter is none of my business or concern. However what is my concern is that this constant pining over Thurgood may interfere with our primary mission.”
“Eason, you are impossible!”
He stood erect. “Then this conversation is terminated. I shall now go and clean up. I suggest you retire immediately. We have an early and long day ahead.”
Percilla buried her face in her hands. “Whatever you wish,” she said in a whisper.
************
It was not until he had immersed himself in the warmth of the bath that his anger started to subside.
How could she do this?
How could she? What with all the trials and hardships they have gone through and no telling what lies ahead, all that blasted woman can think of is her dear, bloody, Thurgood! That dear, spoiled cousin of his that almost got them shot!
Well, he sighed, no matter. He let it be known, as he felt he had to, what their priorities were. That exchange should settle her down, or so he hoped.
As the soothing water took effect and his anger sated, a twinge of discord came over him. Perhaps he had been a bit too rough on her, too blunt in his manner of speech. The myriad of thoughts, emotions and responsibilities she must bear up to, and with all that has happened, must by very trying indeed.
As opposed to himself, whose only purpose was to insure her safety.
After a minute of contemplative thought he came to a conclusion, and with it a promise to himself that he would attempt to be more supportive.
* * * *
She had drawn the curtains closed, which gave the room a feeble light, and was on her side fast asleep. He sat down on the adjoining mattress and allowed himself a moment to look at her prone form, musing on how she now everything in stride.
He could not help but admire that new found charisma, nor could he help but admire her physically as well. Her form, proportions, and that slight exotic quality which shown in the slant of her eyes amongst other features, no doubt due to the Romany blood within her.
A sudden stirring erupted, and as he fought it off a mental one rose up.
If Thurgood had just exited a bath, she would not be asleep.
Cursing himself for these juvenile thoughts and feelings, he quickly got under the covers.
Yet another chapter of "The Young and The Whatever."
Enjoy.
19 MAY 1935
As difficult as it is recalling anything pleasant about my cousin Thurgood, especially after the news of his witless blunder of two days past, I do remember his statement about "written records". Seeing a gem in the offal, I shall endeavor to keep a journal or log of this journey, mine and Percilla's, to whatever conclusion this takes me.
We arose, just as Marcelle promised, just before dawn, and left the place by a back way, appearing back onto the street a block away, so as not to be followed out of the building. Marcelle took us by winding ways through the early morninng streets of Paris - not the fabled "City of Light", by any means. In fact, it almost looked like any London district, but for the delectable aromas coming from every shop and window. But all misinterpretation of location was dashed, when we began coming out into long streets and open plazas, and beheld the most amazing sight!
Le Cathedral de Notre Dame rose majestically before us, its spires rising to the heavens in the most breathtaking tableau. The early sunlight had only touched the peaks and the steep turrets, but as we approached, one could watch the sun paint the building in a pallette of colors that only The Master Painter could have conceived of - truly, the architects of this magnificent place were inspired from above, to create such a soaring tribute to the human spirit!
Marcelle must have seen the reaction on my face, and Percilla's, who was enraptured by the scene of color and column before us. "Ah, mes amis," he said, "you too see the grand beauty of Our Lady, eh? No one of pure heart could fail to be moved by Her! And this is also our destination, for They are waiting to meet us, in the cloistered chambers within. Let us go quickly, now, time is passing!"
We quickly sped up the steps to enter the grandness of the church's columned interior, which echoed tranquilly with the footfalls of the faithful, the tuneful round tones of the monastic choir, lifting their voices in praise, and the occasional cooing of doves that had found their way inside the cavernous cathedral. If my breath had been taken away by the outside, I was struck dumb by the awe of Notre Dame's interior.
Percilla was no less inspired by the world within these walls. I looked at her face, upturned toward the glass which was aglow with morning light, two delicate streams of light coursing down her cheeks like rain, her mouth slightly open in part gasp and part sob, her eyes as brilliant as diamonds - a moment which I shall treasure imperishable for all time.
Marcelle recognized our spellbound features for the sincere joy they were, and gently led us by the arms through the nave, and passed quietly to the side doors near the massive altar, and abruptly left the light, plunging into fitful light and shadow. I thought to myself the appropriateness of this: passing from light and glory, into darkness and a shadowy intrigue.