IX. Dreaming or Drowning
Winds rustle over the cold waters that cover the plain as far as the eye can reach. Stocky pollard willows stick out of the surface of the enormous artifical lake, their knotty silhouettes beveling eerily against the leaden sky. The roof of an inundated farm breaks the line of the horizon; footbridges and passserelles just above the dark surface seemed to loose themselves into the distance, only to dissolve into the low-hanging clouds.
A deadly silence hangs over the scenery, only disturbed by the far away thunder of the mortars and the irregular obus explosions at the frontline. From here on, it seemed like those things happen in another world. Wind and water birds determine the rythm here; the reed covering the shores sways swiftly when the waves roll over it.
Two children procede carefully through the bushes on the waterfront. They look out for births or eggs to prey, and come to check their night lines for fish and eel. The boys, not older than twelve, thirteen, make their way through the vegetation carefully, not wanting to frighten away their potential dinner. Wading knee-high through the water pushing branches aside, the kid leading the way suddenly stops in his tracks.
"Kijk daar, Jules!"
The addressee, surprised, bounces into the back of the boy before him, grabs his schoulder not to fall.
"Oww! What the hell, Cyriel?"
"Someone's lying in the water!"
Jules peeks around the shoulder blocking his sight.
"Where? Is he alive?"
"It's a German; look at his coat. He's dead I think. The water is very cold and he doesn't move at all... "
"Whoah! Let's look whether he still has something of value on him. Or maybe we find out who he is, and where he comes from. You never know!"
The excited children's voices echo over the waterfront. They grap the lifeless body by its arms and pull it halfway on the bank. It is heavy, its soaked trench coat seems to weigh a ton. A large satchel holds it back; they cut its thong and throw the bag on the shore. They roll the unlucky soldier on his back; long dark wavy hair falls away and reveals his face.
They stand frozen by the sight: an alabaster-white face, and unbelievably beautiful. It is the face of a woman.
"Jules, this cannot be. Why would a woman wear soldiers' clothes? Look how beautiful she is. Is she really death?"
The boy sits on his knees besides the victim and touches cautiously her face.
Jules takes her bag and empties its content on the shore. A second time the boy freezes at what he sees.
In his hands he holds the exquisitely carved hilt of a long sword. The small part of its blade that remains glistens in the pale sunlight.
"Whoah, how... beautiful. But it's broken." Cyriel looks up at his pal and takes the piece, "do you think she faught —, " He stops mid-sentence.
"I'm quite sure she did fight," Jules says, holding up the heavy, lavisly decorated shield he found in the satchel. "She must be a knight, like the ones in the Count's Castle in Ghent!"
"Don't be a fool; girls can't be knights!"
"Well, seems like this one can. It's a pity she's death — I would have loved to hear her stories. She must have slain a dragon at least."
"Dragons do not exist; everyone knows that."
"They do exist in Hell, together with the demons!"
"No they don't!"
"Yes they do!"
The boys' quarrel ends up in splattering water and pieces of vegetation flying around.
"They do exist, but they are different from what you think they are."
The boys freeze again at the sound of the deep, warm voice. They turn simultaneously around, eyes wide open. The woman in front of them lies on her side, propped up on her elbow. Her trench coat hangs open; a shiny red-golden armour is visible in between its lapels. Her free hand sits on her waist, bloodied red. After an awed silence that seemed to last an eternity, the boys regain their wits.
The mysterious woman retches and coughs; muddy water flows from her mouth.
"You're hurt," Cyriel offers, visibly concerned. He kneels at her side and supports her as good as he can until the vehement spasms reside. "You need a doctor."
"You really saw a dragon?" Jules dares to ask, already now hardly believing what is right before him.
"I'll tell you all about it, I promise. But I need your help first."
"Whe'll help you," Cyriel declared solemnly. Saving a fallen knight was as close to the deeds of the heroes of fairy tales as one could ever dream to get. "Shall we get the medics from the field hospital?"
"Is there a field hospital? That would be good. But the problem is, you have to understand, I cannot be seen, not by English soldiers and not by Germans."
"Ah, but you won't," Jules said confidently.
"If you alarm the hospital, there is not really a way out of it," Diana retorted.
"No, you won't," Jules replied triumfantly, "because there are only Belgian soldiers in this sector!"
"Belgians?" Diana lifted a questioning brow. "Whose side do they fight for?"
"We only defend our country," Cyriel sounded visibly offended. "We are the people of this land. When the Germans came, they were so many our army couldn't stop them. But the King ordered the sluices to be opened, the water flooded everything, and the Germans got stuck —, " the boy tells the story with such passion that it seems he did all of this singlehandedly himself.
"And we got stuck, too," Jules added, very down to earth. "Four years already. It's about time that it stops. I would like to visit my aunt in Ghent — if she still lives."
"Shhh — don't say that! If the war stops, we have to go back to school!"
Diana smiles. Kids are the same everywhere, or so it seems. But she is genuinely intrigued by their story.
"Why — did the Germans come for Belgium?" A twinge contorts her face. She visibly suffers from her wound.
"The did not come for us; they wanted to go to France — they always do," Jules replies willingly.
"Are you German? Why would you hide from your own people? We're the enemy, you know. They could throw you in jail overhere."
"A good thing then that I'm not German, " she replied matter-of-factly. "I — "
Diana throws up again. She feels her strength wane quickly.
"Boys, I need you to do something for me. I need a doctor urgently. Is there someone in your village you can trust with a secret, an elderly, wise person?"
For a moment the boys watch each other. Then, simultaneously, they start to speak.
"Mijnheer pastoor, Father Eustache."
" —? "
"He's the village priest," Jules explains.
"I'll get him. And Dr. Berlaere. Jules, you stay with the knight." Cyriel turns, and off he goes, excited he'll bring back home such an unbelievable story. But first to see the pastor, as he promised.
Diana does not hear him anymore. Her already pale complexion blanches even more as she fades into unconsciousness.
A raven in the skies hovers high above them, its shrieks so thin that they go unnoticed.