“Not until the partisans surrender. And to what end? Paris was liberated nearly a month ago. They’re in retreat and they know it, but still they fight on. All that’s fueling them now is their hatred. Their fear, too.”

“Do you know men on the mountain?”

“Too many to count.”

“How will they survive?”

“I’m not sure they can. Try to get some sleep. It will be dawn before long.”

HE WAS GONE in the morning. He’d stayed long enough to help Aldo with the milking, and to tell his father he’d be back by evening, but of his destination he’d said nothing. So Nina was left to suffer the agonies of waiting, knowing the mountain at her back was crawling with enemy soldiers, all of them savage with fear, all of them poised to assume any man they encountered was a bandit.

He came home in time for supper, just, and he seemed fine to her. A little distracted, and more than a little tired, but that was all. He waited until the children and boys had gone up to bed, until it was only him and Nina, his father and Rosa, at the table, a glass of Aldo’s wine before him.

“The partisans on Monte Grappa have surrendered, but the German cordon around the mountain was easy to evade. Many men were taken, or shot on the spot, but many more escaped.”

“Thank the Lord for that,” Aldo said fervently.

“It’s not that simple. The Germans are offering amnesty to any partisan who lays down his arms and surrenders. And men are doing it. They’re coming forward and they’re being arrested.”

Aldo poured his son more wine, and Nico sipped at it, but then, his expression resolute, he set down his glass.

“I know, or at least I suspect, where some of them are hiding. I have to warn them.”

“But it’s—”

“Rosa. There is no way, no way on God’s earth, that the Germans plan to pardon them. At the very least they’ll end up in prison, or as slave labor somewhere between here and Russia. Far more likely that they’ll be killed.”

“What can you do on your own?” Aldo asked.

“If I can save even one of them from coming forward it’s worth it. Some of them are boys no older than Matteo. How could I live with myself if I stood by and let them die?”

“You’re certain the Germans won’t pardon them?” Nina now asked.

He fixed her with an incredulous look. “Zwerger was seen being driven around yesterday. And this morning he stood on the steps of the church in Possagno and swore up and down that any boys or men who surrender will be pardoned. Do you truly believe a man like him intends to keep such a promise?”

“No,” she whispered.