Enemy of the Tzar

by Lester S. Taube

  “I will kill them someday,” said Zelek clearly. Gitel took his hand. For the first time, she did not grin or joke at his remark.

  The day passed slowly for Hanna. She was eager to get back home, prepare supper, then wait for Stephen, who had said he was coming by later. Jakob was taking the evening meal at the rabbi’s house, and he would remain there until late, so she and Stephen would have time to get off by themselves. He had only a week or so left before returning to the university, and the two of them were still immersed in a quandary. They had met four days ago, had taken the boat for an hour of fishing, and then visited their hideaway. In spite of their shared anxiety, they had fallen into each other’s arms, unable to think clearly until their bodies had blended in urgent passion. They had reached climax together, as they often did, and without withdrawing, had continued making love until they both peaked again. Only then did they rest, pressed tightly together, until their senses had returned.

  After arranging their clothing, Stephen lay back with a small smile on his face. “Do you know something, Hanna? If I were to be shot tomorrow morning, I would have forgotten all about it while I was making love with you.”

  She leaned down and kissed him. “What a terrible thing to think of.”

  His smile became broader. “It would actually be a worthwhile trade-off.”

  She jabbed him in the side. “Was it so bad that you could look forward to a firing squad?”

  He folded her in his arms. “Of course not. But if I had only once choice left on earth, it would be to make love to you. Because when we do, I am yours so completely that it’s like all of me will stay with you no matter what happens.” He chuckled. “I guess that sounds sort of foolish.”

  She snuggled closer to him. “No, it does not,” she said, muffled against his chest. “I feel the same way, too.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds, stroking her hair. “Hanna, I will take two weeks after I return to the university to search for a flat and a job. Then I want you and the children to come to me.”

  She drew back her head. “Stephen, I am so frightened.”

  He tipped her chin so he could look into her eyes. “You frightened?” He smiled in admiration. “I don’t believe it. I cannot imagine a braver person than you, my beloved.”

  “It will ruin all your chances,” she explained, her eyes misting up.

  “Certainly not. You and I, we can do anything – so long as we are together. Anyhow, there is still one possibility. Once we are married, I will write my father and mother explaining how we feel. There is always a chance they may send enough money for me to continue school.”

  She knew that refuting his hope would make her sound cynical, so she kept quiet. But she was under no illusions of there being any way out, except by that which Stephen offered. She would gladly sacrifice herself to allow him his opportunity. She could go away, work in a strange town until the baby was born, and then arrange to have a Jewish family help her rear the child until something developed. But it was not just her and Stephen involved. There was Gitel and Reba and Zelek also. She just could not walk away from them, and she would not dream of placing them in separate foster homes. If Uncle Samuel had the means to take care of the three of them, it might be worked out, but she had no right asking others to face privations because of her own problem. Of course, placing them in another home and leaving the village would be a clear sign that she was pregnant. She could never come back to Gremai, nor, for a fact, into any Jewish society. There would always be the rumor of what happened, and it would drive away any hope of a proper marriage.

  There were, as a last resort, certain midwives who could terminate the pregnancy. She did not have the faintest idea where to find one, or who to ask to find one – if that option was ever seriously considered. But her child and Stephen’s – to snuff out its life would be the same as taking her own.

  “I will go to work to help,” she told him.

  He surprised her, for she expected him to object. “Would it make you feel better?” he asked.

  “Of course it would. It is my fight, too.”

  “Then all right. Until I can give you and the children everything you need.”

  Tears came to her eyes. “Oh Stephen, how very much I love you.”

  “And I love you, my darling.” He sat up. “Everything is settled now. Plan on coming to me in a month or so. I will have everything ready by then.”

  “Very well. I will sell the contents of the house. It will not bring much, but it will help us buy beds and furniture there.”

  He got to his feet and pulled her up. He was smiling. “That’s my Hanna. Once you make up your mind, you know exactly what to do.”

  Hanna stitched the veil quickly, which was sent off at once to the Rich Widow’s house in care of one of Mrs. Merkys’ girls, and then she started work on two dresses for the wife of the leading grain distributor of the district. She allowed only Hanna to make her dresses. She had purchased her own dress form from a company in Germany, and it was stored at Mrs. Merkys’ shop. Every year or so she came to Gremai to have the form adjusted. Whenever she wanted a dress made, she would purchase all the material, buttons, thread and have them sent to Hanna with a letter explaining exactly how she wanted it. With the letter would come a sketch of the style desired, or a picture from a newspaper or magazine. Hanna had made nine or ten over the past two years, and each had fit the woman so perfectly that alterations were never required. The woman was delighted, for she loathed the bother of undressing in front of another person, standing on a stool to be pinned up, redressing, and then going through the same routine until fitted properly.

  Soon the girl who delivered the veil returned. She had an envelope from the niece, containing a beautifully written note thanking Hanna for her work and enclosing a gift of three rubles. Hanna was overwhelmed, and, as she had done for so many years, her thoughts turned to what to do with the money. Then she smiled, for in the past, each tip was destined for food or wood or some necessity to make ends meet, but now it would go for a pillow or plates or some household item which she and Stephen would be sharing.

  The thought of seeing Stephen made the day drag on as if it would never end, but finally six o’clock came and immediately she was off and walking swiftly to the house. Gitel had already boiled potatoes for supper, set the table, and cut slices of bread. Hanna smoothed back the fine hair that always seemed to edge towards her cheeks, and kissed the top of her head. There was hardly a moment when Gitel was about that Hanna did not think of her mother. She had the same waiflike quality, but Hanna sensed that underneath rested the steely determination that Motlie possessed up to the last. There was still some pickled herring left, and that would do, since none of the boarders were there.

  The family ate supper quickly, and while Gitel and Reba washed the dishes, Hanna worked swiftly on the repairs and alterations that more and more people were bringing to the house. She had been doing odd jobs of this sort for years, mostly from neighbors, but lately it had begun to build up. She spoke of this to Mrs. Merkys, who just waved her hand.

  “Take the work,” she ordered. “It’s mostly the hazerai - the junk business. They wouldn’t bring it to me anyhow. By you, they pay a few kopeks and save themselves the trouble of threading a needle. Just don’t do any making.”

  In truth, it was minor work, and the cost was half of what they would pay elsewhere, but by working rapidly, she was supplementing her salary by as much as twenty-five percent. It was also good luck that the goyim, stabling their horses in the barn during church services and buying the challah and tea had not dropped off since Israel’s death. Her father’s acquaintances had kept the faith, so to speak, especially since they had actually seen the family grow up.

  Stephen was over just after dusk, carrying two plump fish he had caught earlier in the day. He was dressed in a fine, dark blue suit. “I can stay only a few minutes,” he said. “The family is going to the reception for the niece’s marriage. I can be back in a couple of ho
urs if it isn’t too late.”

  “It will not be too late,” she replied, disappointed that they would not be spending the evening together. She touched the tip of his nose. “I have some oil. Shall I rub it on?”

  He grinned down at her. “I think it’s too late now. I should have worn a larger hat. Well, I’d better be off.” She accompanied him to the gate of the fence around the yard. They could not kiss in the house with the children watching, and outside they found it was still too light. “We’ll make up for it when I get back,” he whispered.

  She smiled. “There will be a full moon tonight.”

  “Why do they call it a ‘lover’s moon’? It sure spoils things.” Then he was off.

  CHAPTER 17

  Hershel stretched himself in the clump of bushes overlooking the road to Slabodka. He was hot and sweaty. He had ridden to the lookout before dawn, taken binoculars from his pocket, and continually scanned the area. The only traffic was that of workmen going to the various fields and merchants taking their wares east and west. He wished he could see the river, but it was obscured by a roll in the ground. By midmorning, he had enough of lying about, so he tightened the cinch of the saddle, mounted, and set off at a fast clip for Slabodka. Just before the river, he used his binoculars to scan both ends of the bridge, searching for men posted in places where they could look closely at the people crossing over.

  Wary and tense, he went across. Once he had turned down a couple of side streets without being challenged, he headed straight for Julijonas’ shop. He stopped a block away, tied his horse to one of the public hitching rails, and then worked his way slowly from street to street until he had thoroughly reconnoitered the area. Only then, did he walk up the alley and knock upon the door.

  Julijonas opened it at once, motioned him inside, and then peered around carefully before closing it. Hershel could see the anxiety in the stout man’s eyes.

  “Do you have any news?” he asked the shop owner.

  Julijonas shook his head as he settled himself behind his desk. “Not a word. It’s terrifying not to know what is going on. I’ve pulled all my people off the search and told them to lay low.” He took out a bottle of vodka, poured two glasses, and downed his without waiting for Hershel to drink. Hershel could see that he was nearly drunk although it was not yet noon.

  “How about the library?” he asked.

  “I’ve sent a contact each afternoon, as you told me to do. There is no sign of a woman who fits your lady’s description.”

  “You didn’t send anyone who resembles me, did you? They could be looking for a person my age and build.”

  “No. I’m smarter than that. I sent a woman.” He downed another shot. “Hershel, I want it straight. Shall I get out of here?”

  “If I thought so, I would be gone myself.” The moment he said that, it struck him that he was actually being an idiot waiting about. By all rights, he should have broken contact at the first sign of trouble, fled to a safe zone, then sent in another agent to observe until Katrine’s disappearance was solved. Something was holding him back. Katrine, of course. But even more. He had to admit to himself that it was peering into the jaws of the tiger. Like so many damned fools, he had to crawl to the edge of the world and look down. One of the agents of the section in Berlin dubbed it the ‘Death Wish’. Then he had added, with a hint of hysterical laughter, that only morons and the suicide bent volunteered for the service.

  “Perhaps we should both take a vacation,” said Julijonas, as if he was reading Hershel’s mind.

  “If we do, the system will be finished. All of your people would take off like scared rabbits. And even if nothing happened, they would never join you again. They would begin to think that perhaps you are not infallible.”

  “Infallible, indeed,” laughed Julijonas. “That’s a hell of a description.”

  “But it’s true. You stay on because I stay on. I stay on because what we are working for will conquer in the end.”

  “I stay on for Lithuania.” His words were becoming slurred.

  “Then Lithuania will someday be free. When it is free, your name will go down in history.”

  “The sons-of-bitches will have to dig me up first.”

  Hershel laughed as he got to his feet. Julijonas had regained his humor, which was crucial at such a time. He waved a goodbye, then left the office. Outside, he went back on full alert, and in forty-five minutes had reached his hiding area. As he loosened the cinch strap of the saddle, he shook his head in wonder. He just could not understand what was happening with Katrine. But sooner or later, he would have to do something, take some action, to get the operation back in full swing before leaving. He had gained such momentum that slowing down would be like sprinkling sand in well oiled bearings. Reports had reached him that several cells and study groups had been formed in the large cities, almost all of them using his pamphlets as the basis for discussion. A labor union in Moscow and a naval association in Odessa had even printed modified excerpts. Soon Russian Internal Security would increase pressure to find those preaching seditious actions, and it was mathematically computed that to find one suspect, the police must violate a hundred innocents, most of whom would grow to hate the government. Of fifty or more suspects, only one might be guilty of passing on information. So to find one bottom level pamphlet pusher, the secret police would have roused the anger of four or five thousand people.

  The increased carriage traffic going towards Gremai brought him to attention. Then he remembered that the German woman’s niece was getting married to a Polish nobleman today. It was a diversion, though, from the boredom of inactivity. He took out a tin of Turkish cigarettes and lit one, inhaling deeply the pungent smoke. He allowed himself only half a dozen each day, as a reward for something or other. He had decided that continuing to sit there deserved some compensation.

  When dusk came, he tightened the cinch and climbed aboard the horse.

  Enough is enough, he decided. He would go back early this evening, have a meal, and then sit and talk with Hanna and Jakob. But first, he concluded, he would take a ride along the river to see what was going on there.

  At about eight o’clock, Hanna put aside her sewing. Much of it was not yet finished, but it could wait for tomorrow. She was finding it hard to concentrate on her work, especially since Stephen should be back soon. She told Gitel and Reba it was time for sleep, and without argument, the girls dutifully gave her a kiss and trooped off for their room. Zelek was already fast asleep in her bedroom, the one she had inherited from her parents. She went to the stable to make sure the cow and calf had enough hay and water. All was in order. The girls had been doing their chores just fine, she thought proudly. How eager they were to ease her burden. Even the stall of Hershel’s horse had been cleaned out, and fresh straw deposited on the dirt floor. She opened the stable door to make sure the manure had been piled properly to one side. It was a source of two benefits now–the worms that helped bring fish to the table and as fertilizer for the garden.

  Just as she started back in, she saw a slight movement at the corner of the house across the street. For a moment she thought her eyes were deceiving her, but without pause she stepped inside and shut the door. She stood there, thinking, and then walked swiftly upstairs to Jakob’s darkened room at the front. Keeping out of the moonlight and into the shadows, she stepped to the window and peered from an edge of the curtain. It gave a clear view of the street and the house where she imagined she saw movement. There was just blackness. She looked up and down the street, still seeing nothing. Well, she must have been fancying things. Then she saw it again! The same sort of motion at the same corner. She peered harder into the darkness. Slowly, she made out the form of a man, leaning against the house. What could a man be doing there? It was as if he were spying on the house. Could it be Stephen? Why would Stephen spy? My God, she suddenly concluded! It is Stephen’s father, or one of his people checking on Stephen and her. It was not yet common gossip, but they had been seen in each other’s c
ompany now and then, and it was merely a matter of time before it got to his parents. Her heart began pounding. If they did anything to take Stephen from her, she would die. But Stephen would not allow that. The flutter in her heart slowed down.

  Then she saw another movement from the corner of her eye! It was at the side of the house next, to the one across the street. Now thoroughly aroused, she focused her attention on that point, and soon there emerged the figure of a second man. Her heart began pounding wildly again.

  Thoughts ran swiftly through her mind, then it hit. Hershel! It had to involve him. There was no other reason. Also, he had acted strangely these past few days. My God, she whispered to herself, they are waiting for him. Heart still thumping furiously, she went downstairs and sat on a chair in the kitchen, thinking. It was a trap–there was no mistake about that. And it had to be for Hershel. He would be coming home later, but she was not sure when. She would have to warn him. He always returned along the road from Slabodka. She would have to go up that road at once and intercept him. But how could she get out of the house without being seen? No hope for that, with those men about. Then her eyes fell on the sewing she had been doing, and an idea took form. The men were not after her, else, they would have already broken through the door. Picking up the articles she had repaired, she took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked out. As casually as possible, as if she was delivering the clothing, she turned left on the street towards Mrs. Merkys, away from the road to Slabodka. At every step her skin crawled, expecting at any moment to hear a harsh order to stop. At the next corner, her heart raised with hope, and quickly she turned it, walked rapidly up two more streets, and then doubled back to the right. After a couple of blocks, she cut across an open field and came upon the road to Slabodka. There was a bend shortly ahead, and around it came a man on horseback. It took but one glance to see it was Hershel.