A Love Like Blood Read Free

Right up to the late Middle Ages. The museum itself is a chateau, with a long and famous history. James II lived there after his exile.’
    The Major’s idea of modern was amusing, but he didn’t seem to notice.
    ‘Wondered if you fancied coming over?’
    ‘I’d love to,’ I said, not because I had any interest in archaeology but simply because it would mean I’d get to see more of the city.
    ‘Splendid,’ said the Major, and it was settled.
     
    It meant an early start, but that didn’t stop us from staying late in the bar, talking when we had something to say, watching the dancing figures whirling to accordion, violin and piano when we didn’t. We smoked and drank, and then drank some more.
    I stole glances at Edward, as I was supposed to be calling him, watching him watch the happy people. He had a gentle smile on his face that never faltered, and I found it hard to remember that he was my CO.
    Finally we made our way back down towards the Opéra and crawled into bed in the small hours.
    I had drunk too much, and slept badly. When I did, I dreamed, and my dreams were happy ones, holding no hint of the horror that was waiting for me, just the other side of sleep.

Chapter 3
     
    The weather had been good to us since we’d arrived in the city; that morning was the same, and I was glad of it. The Major rapped on my door smartly at seven, and I dragged myself out of bed, hung-over, possibly even still drunk, for despite the frequent tots of Calvados at Plumetot I wasn’t used to heavy drinking.
    The Major smiled at me, spoke briskly.
    ‘Captain Jackson? Shall we?’
    I managed to nod.
    ‘I’ll see you outside in five minutes, then? Good.’
     
    Our driver, the private, made a fairly blatant display of his displeasure at being up so early when he was supposed to be on leave and drove like a maniac through the empty streets, succeeding in making my hangover worse. From time to time he would briefly lurch to a stop to check a map he’d procured, and then we’d set off again with a squeal.
    The Major showed no sign of noticing this; his good humour from the evening before remained, and in fact the fresh air and the sun started to help me feel much better, despite the private’s offensive driving.
     
    I don’t know if the Major knew, but I certainly didn’t, that the Chateau de Saint-Germain-en-Laye had been German Army headquarters during the occupation, not for the city, but for France and the Low Countries: High Command West.
    It was an incredible sight – it was the first large French chateau I’d ever seen, so regal, so ornate, so elegant, perched on the hillside looking back down across the river to Paris.
    It had been evacuated a few days before the liberation, and was now in the hands of the Americans. I started to doubt if the Major knew what he was about; a British officer arriving on their doorstep caused quite a stir.
    While the private lounged in the jeep in the sun by the gates, I hung at the Major’s heels while he explained what he wanted. As it slowly dawned on the American company commander what exactly that was, his mood relaxed, and then he waved a hand.
    ‘Sure. Go ahead. The whole place is yours. Just don’t take anything home with you, right?’
    He laughed, and the Major gave a small, embarrassed nod, thrown by the directness of the American’s wit.
    ‘Won’t it all have been taken away?’ I asked. ‘Put into storage?’
    ‘Yes, some of it will, but they cannot possibly have moved everything. Look! You see?’
    We walked through corridor after corridor, and the Major was right; on every side hung paintings and tapestries of obvious antiquity, but what the Major was after was many thousands of years older, and of that there was no sign.
    For the first time since we’d arrived in Paris, his mood worsened, but then, as I began to think the whole thing had been a waste of time, a piece of luck.
    As we stood at the top of a flight of stairs, wondering where to look next, a voice