Inferno

Chapter 97

Svane Reden

The terror returned. Once darkness had fallen the air became alive again with the evil whine and drone of high projectiles, the lethal swash and hiss of lower trajectory missiles and always the crump and tremble of explosions in a never-ending dread that the next would seek them out and end their lives in a blinding instant.

A street away, a market took fire, its towering flames impossible to control. And as medieval houses were hit with exploding shells they crumbled to gaunt ruin. There were so many now, stark and desolate. The rockets hissed unseen from the sky, their sharp iron points enabling them to pierce deep within a building where the flare of their patent composition would leap from the floors to the walls and bring inferno to yet another ancient habitation.

Through the drawing-room window they were confronted with a hellish picture. The fire and destruction were reaching into the sky, the clouds now tinged an ominous blood-red, flashes playing on their undersides in a devil’s tattoo.

They shrank from the scene and sat together by the dead fireplace but could not speak. What could be said in the circumstances?

As midnight passed, Frue Rosen collapsed, inconsolable and broken, weeping softly.

Hetty and Cecilia held her by turns, comforting and quieting her.

Renzi waited until Frue Rosen was settled, then took Cecilia aside and held both her hands. ‘My darling love.’ He struggled with the lump that was forming in his throat. ‘My very dearest. You cannot conceive how it beats on my spirit that I’ve brought you to this place of ruin and death. If it were only myself …’

Cecilia gripped his hands so tightly it hurt and, looking deep into his eyes, whispered, ‘Dear Nicholas – believe me, my love, when I tell you that I’d a thousand times be here by your side than safe and without you.’

They clung to each other for a long moment.

Dabbing his eyes, Renzi pulled himself together. ‘I do believe we must seek shelter lower down. The cellar, perhaps.’

‘Then that’s where we must set up our home!’ Hetty said, with brittle gaiety. ‘Do go down and I’ll bring our things to you.’ She hesitated, then said in an off-handed way, ‘Dear Frue Rosen was not able to go out today, the people being all of a moil. We can do without our foodstuffs but we’re in sore want of water. The pump is at the end of the street – I’ll see if I can squeeze out a dish or so.’

‘No!’ Cecilia said in consternation. ‘They’ll see you’re English and – and hang you!’

‘There’s not so many out there and they’ll have other things to worry on. I’ll be quick, don’t bother about me.’

She shooed them down the stairs to the cellar and found a pan.