CHAPTER XXII

The Sack of Louvain

Passing along several gloomy passages and ascending two flights of stairs, Kenneth was ushered into a large, well-lighted room overlooking the city square. From without came the noise and bustle of hundreds of troops. Several regiments, having recently arrived, were partaking of a meal in the open, the food being cooked in large portable kitchens, the smoke from which drifted in through the open windows of the room.

Seated at a massive oak desk was an officer in the uniform of the German General Staff. Behind him stood a major and two captains. At a writing desk against the wall, facing the windows, sat a military clerk. The soldiers of Kenneth's escort lined up behind him, the sergeant standing rigidly at attention on his right. Of Rollo there were no signs.

For some moments Colonel von Koenik, the president of the court, regarded the lad before him with a fixed glare. Kenneth met the president's gaze unflinchingly, yet he realized that there was a menace in the German's manner. It was a hatred of England and of all men and things English.

Finding that he could not browbeat the prisoner, von Koenik rasped out a few words to the major who stood behind him. With a stiff salute the latter advanced to the side of the president's desk.

"What is your name, prisoner?" he asked in fairly good English, although there was a tendency to substitute the letter "b" for "p" in most of his words.

Kenneth told him. The major referred to a paper that he held in his hand.

"You are English? What are you doing in Brussels?"

"I am a soldier in the Belgian service."

"In the Belgian service perhaps; but a soldier--no, never."

"Pardon me, sir," protested Kenneth; "I am a corporal of the 9th Regiment of the Line."

The Major waved his hand contemptuously.

"You are not--what you call it?--ah!--bluffing an English magistrate this time. You have a Prussian officer to deal with. If what you say is true, why are you not in uniform? Where are your identity papers? Say rather that you are in the employ of that arch-plotter Grey; tell us exactly the truth, then perhaps we will be merciful."

"Of what offence am I accused, sir?"

"Espionage--surely you know that without asking an unnecessary question."

"It is not true. I have never attempted to spy. Who, sir, is my accuser?"

"It is undesirable to mention names. Our informant states that you have been several days in Brussels, always in civilian clothes. You frequented public buildings; you were seen watching the arrival of our troops."

"That I admit," said Kenneth. "There was no secrecy about the ceremonial parade of the German army through the streets."

"Then perhaps you would tell your friends in England how the victorious Germans will march through London, hein?" asked the Major mockingly.

"I'm afraid they won't," retorted Kenneth, throwing discretion to the winds. "Your troops have to reckon first with our army and then with our fleet."

"Your army? Faint-hearted mercenaries. Englishman, in less than a fortnight our troops will march right through the English and their friends the French, and be in Paris. After that, London."

"No fear!" ejaculated Kenneth.

The German major shrugged his shoulders.

"It is wasting the time of the court," he remarked. "To return to the business in hand. You, an Englishman, have been caught red-handed. You admit you are interested in military matters, although your claim to be a corporal in the Belgian army does not hold. Again, you admit that you took up arms against us?"

"Certainly--as a soldier, and strictly in accordance with the code of war."

"Your code is not our code," sneered the Major. He then turned and addressed the president. Colonel von Koenik inclined his head, and gave an order to the sergeant of the guard.

Three men filed out, returning after a brief interval with Rollo. Limping badly, young Barrington was marched across the room and placed by the side of his chum.

The president stood up and removed his helmet. The other officers also uncovered.

"Accused," he said, speaking in English, "you are found guilty on a charge of espionage. The sentence is death."

Von Koenik sat down and resumed his head-dress. He scanned the faces of the two lads, as if to detect signs of fear. But there were none. Beyond an almost imperceptible tightening of the lips, the young Britons received the grim intelligence unflinchingly.

"But on account of your youth I am going to make what you English call a sporting offer. You"--addressing Rollo--"expressed an opinion that our armies would never reach Paris."

"I did," replied Rollo, whose examination had been concluded before Kenneth had been brought before the court.

"And you also"--to Kenneth--"made a similar rash statement."

"Not rash, sir; but a candid statement."

"Very good. You will both find that you are in error. Now, this is my offer. You will not be shot straight away. You will be kept in close confinement. As soon as Paris is taken--as it will be in about a fortnight--your sentence will be put into execution. If within thirty days from now our armies should by some unprecedented accident fail to reach Paris, your lives will be spared and your sentences commuted to ten years' imprisonment in a fortress. You comprehend?"

Von Koenik broke off to exchange a few words in German with the major. Then he resumed:

"Major Hoffmann here will be answerable for your custody. So long as you give no trouble, and make no attempt to escape--such attempt will be bound to be a failure, let me add--you will be treated with as much consideration as it is possible to accord to convicted spies."

Again the president conferred with the major. Then, stiffly saluting, Major Hoffmann gave an order. The soldiers closed around the two prisoners.

With their heads held erect, Kenneth and Rollo were about to be marched from the presence of the grim Colonel von Koenik, when the latter rapped the desk with an ivory mallet.

"Of course," he added, "when our armies enter Paris--about the 1st of September--you will accept the decree of fate? Perhaps. But it is not pleasant to be confronted by the muzzles of a dozen rifles of a firing-party. There is one more chance. If you give us true and full information concerning certain points which will be raised later, the full penalty will be mitigated. You understand?"

Both Kenneth and Rollo began to protest, but von Koenik silenced them.

"You English are too fond of acting and thinking rashly on the spur of the moment," he exclaimed. "Think it over--carefully. It is worth your calm deliberation."

On being removed from the court, Kenneth and Rollo were placed in the same cell--the room in which the former had been kept pending his appearance at the farcical trial.

Colonel von Koenik had no intention of carrying his threat into execution. He was one of those men who are firm believers in the application of methods of tyranny to gain their ends. Kenneth Everest had been denounced as a spy by the tobacconist of the Rue de la Tribune--himself a German secret agent. The information had to be acted upon, and Rollo, living in the same house as the accused, had also been arrested.

Von Koenik would not condemn a prisoner without conclusive evidence. He was convinced, mainly on the testimony of Madame Hirondelle, that neither Kenneth nor Rollo was a spy; at the same time they were Englishmen, and that was sufficient to merit their detention. Again, by intimidation or cajoling they might be able to furnish valuable information to the German authorities. Since the informal sentence of death did not move the accused to beg for mercy, a slower and constantly terrifying method must be applied.

The firm expressions on the forthcoming failure on the part of the Germans to enter Paris--an expression that both lads made independently of each other--gave von Koenik an idea. On his part he was absolutely certain that no mortal power could arrest the victorious march of the Kaiser's legions; and such was his obsession that he imagined both Kenneth and Rollo could have no inmost doubts on the matter. By proposing a "sporting offer", von Koenik knew that his methods to terrorize would have time to work and undermine the resolution of the English lads. In a very few days, he decided, they would be willing to save themselves from a haunting dread by offering the information he desired.

It was by no means a new experiment on the part of Colonel von Koenik. During his tenure of office in command of a line regiment in an Alsatian town, he had frequently terrorized civilians who had fallen under his displeasure, by the application of methods based upon the legendary sword of Damocles. Hitherto this form of the tyranny of the Mailed Fist had been most successful; but it was different in the case of Kenneth Everest and Rollo Barrington.

"What was that swashbuckler driving at, I wonder?" asked Rollo, when the two chums found themselves alone in their cell. "Do you think that he really intends to have us shot?"

"I should say yes; only I don't understand why the sentence was not carried out at once. It is a low-down trick keeping us on tenterhooks; but from what we have already seen and heard, these Germans--the Prussians especially--do not draw the line at anything."

"Anyhow, the fellow thinks he's on a dead cert. on the Paris trip. I don't; so if he's as good as his word on the month's grace we'll escape the firing-party. As for the ten years, that's nothing. We'll be liberated at the end of the war."

"Unless we 'break bounds' at the first opportunity," added Kenneth. "We both seem to have been born under a lucky star, and having given those fellows the slip once, there is no reason why we shouldn't be equally successful the next time."

The two following days the lads passed in uneventful captivity in the cell. Straw had been provided for bedding, while their meals consisted of rye bread and water, and, once a day, a bowl of soup. For half an hour they were allowed to take exercise in an enclosed courtyard, four soldiers, carrying loaded rifles, having been told off to prevent any attempt at escape.

On the morning of Tuesday, the 25th of August, the prisoners were ordered to leave their cell. Guided by the same four soldiers, they were marched into the courtyard, where a dozen Belgian civilians were formed up under an armed guard. In a doorway opening into the quadrangle stood Major Hoffmann, watching the proceedings with a supercilious air.

"Are they going to shoot the crowd of us?" whispered Kenneth; but before Rollo could reply, a sergeant gave the speaker a violent blow and sternly ordered him in French to be silent.

The names of the prisoners were then called out, each man having to answer to his name. This done, the sergeant in charge took the list to Major Hoffmann, who initialled the document and returned it.

Then the large gates at one end of the courtyard were thrown open, and the prisoners, surrounded by their armed guards, were ordered to march.

Along the Chaussee de Louvain--one of the principal thoroughfares of Brussels--the melancholy procession passed. There were crowds of people about in addition to the numerous German troops. The citizens regarded their compatriots under arrest with suppressed feelings. They were afraid to make any demonstration of sympathy. The iron heel of Germany had crushed the spirit out of the Belgians who still remained in the fallen capital.

"Do you know where they are taking us to?" asked Kenneth of the prisoner marching next to him, evidently a well-to-do business man before the great calamity that had overtaken him.

"They say to Germany, there to work in the fields and help to feed our enemies," replied the man. "At all events, we have to march to Louvain and be entrained there."

Kenneth's great fear was that Rollo would be unable to stand the strain of the long march. His ankle had improved, but he still limped slightly.

"I'm all right," replied Rollo cheerily, in response to his chum's anxious enquiry. "It's better than being cooped up in that rotten hole. Besides," he added in a whisper, "we may get a chance of giving them the slip."

So far the information given by the Belgian seemed to be correct. The prisoners were trudging along the highway leading to Louvain. Beyond that point, railway communication was now possible; for with their advance upon Brussels the German engineers had lost no time in repairing the lines and erecting temporary bridges in place of those sacrificed by the Belgians in their efforts to impede the enemy's advance.

At twelve o'clock the prisoners reached the village of Cortenburg, about half-way between the capital and Louvain. Here they were halted, and driven into a church. For food and drink they had to depend upon the charity of the villagers, who, notwithstanding the fact that they had been despoiled by the invaders, gave the famished and travel-worn men bread and milk.

For three hours Kenneth and his companions in adversity were kept under lock and key, while their escort, having obtained copious quantities of wine, were becoming boisterously merry. When, at length, the order was given to resume the march, some of the soldiers were so drunk that they could not stand. The sergeant thereupon ordered the villagers to provide two carts, and in these, lying on bundles of straw, the besotted men followed their comrades.

Before the prisoners had covered a mile beyond Cortenburg an open motor-car dashed past. In spite of its great speed both Kenneth and Rollo recognized its occupants. They were Colonel von Koenik and Major Hoffmann.

"They don't mean to get out of touch with us, old man," remarked Kenneth, after the car had disappeared in a cloud of dust. "I suppose they'll go on by train to whatever distance we are bound for. I'll warrant they'll be waiting at Louvain."

"I wish I had the chance of bagging that motor-car," said Rollo. "It's a beauty. We'd be in Antwerp in less than an hour."

"Instead of which we're tramping along, with a dozen of more or less intoxicated soldiers to keep an eye on us," added Kenneth. "I believe if we made a bolt for it they would be too tipsy to aim properly."

"It's too risky," declared Rollo. "There are hundreds of German troops scattered all over this part of the country. Besides, if we did get away, the other prisoners would get a rough time. What's that?"

"Rifle-firing," replied Kenneth, as the rattle of musketry could be faintly heard, the sounds coming from the north.

"A battle before Antwerp, probably," suggested Rollo. "The Germans will have a stiff task if----"

A vicious box on the ear from the nearest soldier brought the conversation to a sudden close. The fellow who dealt the blow grinned with intense satisfaction at his deed. The next instant Rollo's fist shot out straight from the shoulder, and the German dropped like a log. He was too drunk to feel the blow, so he sat on the road, his rifle on the ground, holding his jaw with both hands and bawling in pot-valiant style.

Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, two of the Belgian prisoners made a dash for liberty. One was the man to whom Kenneth had spoken--a short, stout, apoplectic individual; the other a tall, lean fellow who had the appearance of a trained athlete.

Before the astonished Germans could level their rifles both men had got across a wide ditch, and had placed a hundred yards of marshy ground between them and their late captors. Then half a dozen rifles rang out, but the fugitives held on, the taller one having established a lead of twenty yards. They were making for a wood, not more than a quarter of a mile off.

Again and again the Germans fired. The lads could see some of the bullets kicking up spurts of dirt a long way wide of their mark; others must have sung harmlessly overhead.

Suddenly the short man stopped. He could run no farther. He called to his companion; but the latter, taking no heed, did not slacken his swift pace. The corpulent fugitive looked over his shoulder, and seeing that some of the Germans had attempted pursuit, began to walk after his compatriot. The fact that the soldiers had missed him at short range had given him confidence. Presently the tall Belgian gained the outskirts of the wood. Here he stopped, and waved his arms with a contemptuous gesture at the German soldiers. It was his undoing, for by sheer chance a bullet struck him in the head. He pitched on his face and lay motionless.

The other man, alternately walking and running, got clear away.

The English lads now had their turn. They were kicked, prodded with rifle-butts, and repeatedly struck by the fists of the infuriated, half-drunken soldiers, till the sergeant, fearing that he might get into serious trouble if Colonel von Koenik's special prisoners were much injured, ordered his men to desist. Two of them were sent to bring the body of the foolhardy Belgian. Dead or alive the whole of the prisoners had to be accounted for, and the fact that one was missing caused the sergeant considerable misgivings.

Meanwhile the sound of distant firing still continued. If anything it seemed nearer. The German escort began to hurry their prisoners along.

A mile or so farther on they reached a small village. Here most of the inhabitants had left, but a few gazed timorously upon the grey-coated soldiers from the upper windows of their houses.

The sergeant gave the order to halt, then spoke hurriedly to two of his men who were not so intoxicated as the rest. These two walked up to a door and knocked. Receiving no reply, they shattered the woodwork with their rifles and entered the house. In less than a minute they reappeared, dragging between them a peasant so old and feeble that he could hardly walk. Him they bundled into the cart beside the body of the dead Belgian, and the convoy resumed its way.

"The brutes!" ejaculated Kenneth. "I see their game. They're going to palm off that poor peasant as the man that escaped."

"It seems like it," agreed Rollo; "but what will happen when they read the roll-call? It will give the show away."

"Trust those fellows for carrying out a dirty piece of work. Hist!"

The lads relapsed into silence. They did not want a repetition of the scene when their last conversation was interrupted. Already they were bruised from head to foot.

Shortly before six in the evening the prisoners reached the outskirts of Louvain. The town, the principal seat of learning of Belgium, was, of course, in the hands of the Germans; but hitherto they had refrained from any vandalism. According to their usual procedure they had terrorized the inhabitants, who still remained in fear and trembling. Everywhere were placards in French and Flemish, warning the townsfolk that any act of hostility towards the German troops would result in severe penalties. With the examples of the fate of other towns and villages--where the luckless inhabitants, in defence of their lives and homes, had ventured to resist the invaders and had been ruthlessly massacred--the people of Louvain had rigidly abstained from any action that could be regarded as aggressive to German authority. On their part the invaders behaved fairly well, and confidence was beginning to be restored amongst the Belgians who still remained in Louvain.

Suddenly a shot rang out, quickly followed by others. Bullets screeched over the heads of the prisoners and their German guards. In a few moments all was confusion. The prisoners flung themselves on the ground to escape the deadly missiles. Some of the escort followed their example. Others, kneeling behind the two wagons that brought up the rear of the procession, returned the fire.

"Good!" ejaculated Kenneth. "Louvain has been recaptured. That accounts for the firing we heard this afternoon."

"I trust so," replied Rollo. "There's one fellow down--another rascal the less."

It was the German who had received a taste of a British fist. Rendered incautious in his maudlin state, he had recklessly exposed himself. A bullet passing through his chest laid him dead on the spot. Another German was leaning against the wheel of a wagon, with his hand clapped to his right shoulder.

Just then the sergeant caught sight of the troops who were blazing away at his party. With a succession of oaths he bade his men cease fire. Here was another blunder. The Germans were firing at each other.

At length the exchange of shots ceased. A Prussian officer, accompanied by half a dozen of his men, advanced to meet the prisoners and their escort. His face was purple with fury. For ten minutes he bullied and browbeat the luckless sergeant, whose men had not been responsible for opening fire. Then other officers--members of the staff--hurried up, and a hasty consultation followed.

Presently Colonel von Koenik tore up in his motorcar. He was accompanied by another staff-officer, Major von Manteuffel, whose name was presently to be execrated throughout the civilized world.

Von Manteuffel was in a high pitch of nervous excitement. Evidently he was trying to fix the blame upon the men escorting the Belgian prisoners, while von Koenik, cool and calculating, championed their cause.

Kenneth and Rollo watched the scene with well-concealed satisfaction. The mere fact that some small portion of the mechanism of the Mailed Fist had gone wrong elated them. It was an insight into the blustering methods of German military organization; but they had yet to learn that the Bullies of Europe had a drastic remedy for their errors, whereby the penalty fell upon the weak and helpless.

Von Koenik gave an order, the sergeant bundled Rollo and Kenneth into an isolated house situated about half a kilometre from the town. What befell the Belgian prisoners the lads never knew, but from the window in the upper room in which they were confined, the British youths could command a fairly-extensive view of Louvain and the road which approached it.

Two German soldiers were locked in the room, but they offered no objection when Kenneth and Rollo went to the window.

Above the tiled roofs of the houses, the ancient and venerable church of St. Pierre shot up like an island in the centre of a lake. Other buildings--churches, the Hotel de Ville, and the university--were slightly less conspicuous, yet clearly discernible above the expanse of houses. Along the road were hundreds of grey-coated troops, while a small black patch in that long-drawn-out riband of silver-grey indicated the position of the way-worn band of Belgian prisoners, who were now almost within the limits of the town.

While the British lads were at the window, then German guards produced from their knapsacks some pieces of roll, sausages, and a bottle of wine. Soon the room was filled with the disagreeable sounds of Teutonic mastication, which, unless one has had the misfortune to hear it, cannot satisfactorily be described. Kenneth and Rollo, thanking their lucky stars that they were not compelled to witness the performance, remained at the window.

Suddenly, just as the town clocks were chiming the hour of six, a succession of shots rang out.

"Good!" ejaculated Kenneth. "The Belgians are driving home an attack."

The two Germans gave not the slightest hint of alarm, but stolidly continued their meal. Their indifference caused the lads to wonder. It was not a conflict between two armed forces, but a massacre! It was the commencement of what was, in the words of the Prime Minister of Great Britain, "the greatest crime against civilization and culture since the Thirty Years' War".

Fortunately Kenneth and his companion were spared the horrors of having to witness the indiscriminate shooting of luckless civilians, but, from their coign of vantage, they were spectators of the scene of destruction that followed.

Tall, lurid flames burst forth from the centre of the town of Louvain. Gradually the ever-widening circle of fire spread till the bulk of the houses was one vast holocaust.

Throughout that terrible night the lads remained at the window, watching the progress of the conflagration and listening to the shrieks of panic and terror from the brutally-maltreated inhabitants.

That was von Manteuffel's method of covering up the blunder made by his half-drunken troops.