The San Sebastian Chronicles, Part XIV
Au revoir, mama; aufwiedersehen, Captain.
Just then a smooth, deep, clarion of a voice rang out from the door, startling me, obscured as the source-figure was through the thick haze of my pipe smoke. “I am sorry if I am interrupting anything,” he called out.
It was the captain from the night before. He was in his olive uniform now. All scarlet epaulets, brass buttons, and medals.
Continued from…
“Ah, captain. Forgive me for not visiting your office this morning to retrieve my figurines. I was otherwise engaged for my departure.”
He stepped up to us. “Madame, you must be the lady of the house.”
“I am, yes. Helene Mant,” she said as she extended her white-gloved hand. The captain took and kissed it.
“Captain Lauzirika. Maximilian de Lauzirika, madame. It is a pleasure. And please, allow me to thank you for permitting the army to station at your wonderful home. I know it must be a terrible inconvenience and burden. But I can assure you, we will be decamping as soon as this awful war is over, and thanks to you exquisite generosity in allowing us to put up stakes here, that day will come sooner.”
“It is no trouble, Captain. In fact, I am happy to do it. Not only out of patriotism for San Sebastian, but out of a healthy respect for our nation’s currency.” She let out a little smile.
The captain smiled. “Yes, madame. We can all respect and enjoy a well-bargained exchange.”
Lauzirika turned to me, “Departure, Hauptsergente? To where.”
I was about to say simply, back to the front, but I paused a second to long to consider any risk in whatever information I might divulge. In that gap, my mother, who could be counted on to let spill too much information at any halt in conversation, said “Charlemagne is off to the monastery at San Romedio. For a pilgrimage.”
I took a breath to speak, but decided I could not do anything to improve the situation.
“San Romedio! Wonderful. I have been there. It is a beautiful place. A visit will do well to instill your spirit with God’s graces. I bid you a safe journey,” said Lauzirika, with perfect aplomb. He had folded his arms behind his back. He turned over his shoulder, “Soldiers, the boxes of Hauptsergente Mant’s things.”
At that the two meaty privates who I’d seen escorting the two squirrely lieutenants the night before brought in two well-sized wooden crates, each of which had straw and the tips of a few of my stone statuettes sticking out from their open tops.
“Anywhere?” the captain asked.
I pointed to a fairly empty corner. The men took the boxes over there. They actually appeared to be making some effort to be quite gentle as they sat them down. The captain reminded them, “With most care, soldiers, those contents are private property and most fragile.” He turned to me, “I hope you don’t mind, but when you didn’t come this morning, I took the liberty of having your statues packed up. I needed to move in some books and binders of various information associated with my duties this morning and simply had to make room. I can assure you I personally supervised the loading of the statues to ensure their safety. You are welcome to inspect them yourself and I offer you my personal receipt.”
He held out to me a slip of paper upon which was written, Receipt for forty-seven hand-carved statuettes, various stone, various subjects. Most well done. Value, Ꞣ 10,000. The money value was written in large numerals midway down the page, large enough for mother to see. The captain’s signature, wavy and full of enigmatic initials, appeared at the bottom of the ticket.
“So long as they remain locked in this room, I will vouch for their presence and integrity when you return.”
“Thank you, captain,” mother said with a rare beam of a smile, “we are most grateful for your assurances. I am certain no harm will come to them in here.”
“Yes, thank you, Captain,” I said.
“Of course, it is the least I could do for presuming to handle your things. Speaking of which,” he pointed around the room, “are these sculptings yours?”
“I nodded.”
“Wonderful. Very well done. Quite exquisite. My family has an estate in San Sebastian and another in France. We are always on the lookout for fine effigies. Perhaps after the war we can offer you a commission?”
“I. That would be of most interest, Captain. Thank you.
“Very well. I expect I will never forget this house, so I will know where to find you after we’ve won. I will take my leave now. Good luck on your travels to San Romedio, Hauptsergente. Are you going back to the front first?”
“Well, yes, to,” I stammered.
“I will call you a car.”
“ Captain, you don’t have to — ”
“Madame,” the Captain said as he took and kissed mother’s hand again, “addio, und bis wir unsa wiederi treffeno.” He turned to me, “I insist, Hauptsergente. For your family’s hospitality.”
And with that, the captain de Lauzirika spun on his heels and walked with practiced posture into the hall and away.
“See! A commission. That is how these things happen. And ten thousand koroni,” mother said with a retinal gleam. I knew she’d seen it.
“Pssh. That is absurd. What an ass kisser. Madame this and gracious that. Mother, I want uncle Laurento to come here and stay until the army leaves, or you can go stay with him.”
“I won’t hear of it.”
“You should not be here by yourself. Not with Captain Cassanova in residence.”
“Unlike yours, Charl, my loins have long gone to their repose.”
“Mother, my God! Please.”
“Oh, stop. Turnabout is fair play. Anyway, they’ve assigned a valet to me. He’s quite a nice boy. I’m sure he will ward off any cocksmen, rakes, seducers, gigolos, inamorati, Lotharios, and other Dons Juan who may be lurking about the premises.”
“A grimey lackey he is, no doubt. Filching the silverware probably. I will write to uncle when I get back to the front. You two can sort it out. But I must lock things up and go.”
As I closed the curtains and locked the studio, mother offered some meager protestations about my uncle, but let it go after a moment.
I’d had two duffel bags brought to the front steps. When we got there a military car, a well appointed Daimler, was already waiting for me. Upon our arrival, the chauffeur wordlessly took my bags and expeditiously and securely tied them to a read luggage rack on the vehicle.
“Be safe, Charlemagne,” mum said on the steps down to the driveway, before the limestone frontispiece of the new house, which featured a gothic-script “M” carved above the doors.
“I will. I will be back within a week, soul scrubbed clean and ready to kill more Austrians and assorted Slavonics.”
“Tsk. Well, good luck, you’re a sculptor with ten thousand koroni in work now!”
“Don’t get any ideas, mother. I sometimes wonder if pater rubbed off on you.”
“Only once or twice, dear.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I’m getting in the car.”
We hugged goodbye and the car was skillfully accelerated by the driver at the fastest pace that would not throw gravel into my mother’s face. She waved goodbye, I could see in the mirror. I stuck my hand out of the back of the saloon and did the same.
“To the front?” the driver asked.
“Yes,” I said, “third of the first. Sector four.”
“I know just the place, Hauptsergente,” the driver said, meeting my eye in the rearview mirror.
“Thank you, private. Sergente is fine.”
Continued…
