Free Kane & Abel (1979) by Jeffrey Archer Page A

sunshine, a cool breeze or the most blessed relief of all, the sound of falling rain.
    At the end of a day of unremitting storms, Wladek and Florentyna took advantage of the rain and washed themselves in a puddle of water that had formed in the cracks on the stone floor. Neither of them noticed that the Baron’s eyes flickered when Wladek removed his tattered shirt and splashed the cold water onto his body. Without warning, the Baron spoke.
    ‘Wladek,’ - the word was barely audible - ‘I cannot see you clearly.’ His voice was cracking. ‘Come to me, child.’
    After so long a silence, Wladek was taken by surprise by the Baron’s voice and feared it preceded the madness that already held two of the older servants in its grip.
    ‘Come to me, child,’ the Baron repeated.
    Wladek obeyed fearfully, and stood before the Baron, who narrowed his enfeebled eyes in a gesture of intense concentration. He groped towards the boy and ran a finger over Wladek’s chest, before peering up at him.
    ‘Wladek, can you explain this deformity?’
    ‘No, sir,’ replied Wladek, embarrassed. ‘It has been with me since birth. My father told me that it was the mark of the devil upon me.’
    ‘Stupid man. But then, he was not your father,’ the Baron said softly, and relapsed into silence. Wladek remained standing in front of him, not moving a muscle. When the Baron finally spoke again, his voice was firmer. ‘Sit down, boy.’
    As he did so, Wladek noticed once again the heavy band of silver, now hanging loosely around the Baron’s wrist. A shaft of light made the magnificent engraving of the Rosnovski coat of arms glitter in the darkness of the dungeon.
    ‘I do not know how long the Germans intend to keep us locked up here,’ continued the Baron. ‘I thought at first this war would be over in a matter of weeks. I was wrong, and we must now consider the possibility that it will continue for a very long time. With that thought in mind, we must use our time more constructively, as I know my life is nearing an end.’
    ‘No, no,’ Wladek began to protest, but the Baron continued as if he had not heard him.
    ‘Yours, my child, has yet to begin. I will therefore undertake the continuation of your education.’
    The Baron did not speak again that day. It was as if he was considering the full implications of his pronouncement. But during the following weeks Wladek found that he had gained a new tutor. As they had neither reading nor writing materials, his lessons consisted of repeating everything the Baron said. He learned great tracts from the poems of Adam Mickiewicz and Jan Kochanowski, as well as long passages from The Aeneid . In that austere classroom Wladek learned geography and mathematics, and added to his command of languages - Russian, German, French and English. But as before, his happiest moments were the history lessons. The story of his nation through a hundred years of partition, the disappointed hopes for a united Poland, the anguish of his countrymen at Napoleon’s crushing defeat by the Russians in 1812. He learned the brave tales of happier times, when King Jan Casimir had dedicated Poland to the Blessed Virgin after repulsing the Swedes at Czestochowa, and how the mighty Prince Radziwill, scholar, landowner and lover of hunting, had held court in his castle near Warsaw.
    Wladek’s final lesson each day was on the family history of the Rosnovskis. Again and again he was told - never tiring of the tale - how the Baron’s illustrious ancestor who had served in 1794 under General Dabrowski and then in 1809 under Napoleon himself had been rewarded by the Emperor with vast tracts of land and a baronetcy. He learned that the Baron’s grandfather had sat on the Council of Warsaw, and his father had played his own part in the building of a new Poland. Once again time passed quickly, despite the horrendous surroundings of his new classroom.
    The Baron continued to tutor him despite his progressively failing sight and