Enemy of the Tzar

by Lester S. Taube

  Hanna sat back, bewildered. “What will the Germans do if they find us?”

  “I suspect they would turn us back to the Russian border police at once. After all, my dear, you are both wanted for murder. No matter how badly the two countries get along, they don’t want fugitives running about.”

  Hanna could not stop a cry of despair from crossing her lips. “But what are we to do, Stephen? Coming to Prussia doesn’t seem any better than staying in Russia.”

  “We will have to get deeper into Germany or go to Holland. Change our names. Get new identity cards or whatever they carry here.”

  Hanna was suddenly silent, and then she took up one of his hands and held it tenderly to her cheek. “I love you very, very much, my darling,” she whispered.

  In the dark, Stephen leaned down and kissed her lips. “And I love you,” he said softly. “I’ve always known there were dozens of reasons I love you, but your courage these past few days has made me see what a truly great person you are.”

  She leaned against him; her heart flooding with sadness. “It does not take courage to run for your life.”

  “It does to take such risks for Jakob.” He stood up. “We’d better get inland as far as possible before sunup.” Lifting Jakob in his arms, he started off, Hanna following with the bedroll over her shoulder.

  It was shortly before dawn that Stephen stopped in the shelter of a grove of tall trees. “I see movement ahead,” he whispered, lowering Jakob to the ground. Then they heard a wagon moving along to their front. “It must be a road,” he went on. When the noise faded away, Stephen whispered, “I am going for help.”

  Hanna shook her head. “I will have to go.”

  “Certainly not,” he replied.

  She faced him squarely, her jaw set. “Do you speak German?”

  “No. But being so near the border, I’m sure some of the people speak Russian.”

  “Papa said different. He said it has been Prussia for five hundred years. Regardless, we can’t take the chance. I speak German. I will have to go.”

  He had a great deal of respect for her judgment, so he just nodded. “But be careful. You’d better think up a likely story.”

  “All right.” She began unbraiding her hair. “Do you have a comb?”

  He fished in a pocket and brought one out, then sat down on the ground, at the limit of his strength, watching her pull at the snarled strands. Once she had combed out her hair, she deftly braided it again, and then felt her clothing with a grim expression.

  “I must look terrible.”

  “Not to me.”

  She smiled. “It is dark.”

  He chuckled. Even at this terrible hour, worn out from their exertions, she could still find a sense of humor. His heart swelled with pride. He had picked the best of the lot.

  “Stephen. Do you have any money?”

  He pulled a roll from a pocket. “I brought quite a bit with me. Take what you want.”

  She peeled off a few small bills, handed back the remainder, then kneeled and placed her arms around his neck. She kissed him gently, feeling the awesome fatigue tearing at him. Back on her feet, she pulled her clothes into the best shape she could. “Do not worry about me,” she told him. “I will manage.” Before he could answer, she had disappeared through the trees.

  CHAPTER 20

  She had walked only a hundred meters when she came upon a well-kept, hard packed dirt road. Taking a deep breath, she quickened her pace. Directly ahead was a good sized village.

  A man and a boy materialized out of the gray. “Guten Morgen,” she greeted them in German.

  The man’s head lifted at the accent, and then he replied, “Guten Morgen,” as they passed by.

  In a few more minutes, she was in the town center. Interspersed among tall apartment buildings were a dozen or more modern shops, all shuttered for overnight protection, with signs explaining groceries, meats, clothing, and at the end of one street, a stable. Nearby was a large, impressive stone structure. The post and telegraph office. A light was glowing inside, and two bicycles were standing in a rack.

  Her walk slowed, and then she turned and went back to the stable. It was sturdy, neat, and as clean as her kitchen floor. A tall, lean man of uncertain years was shoveling straw into a wheelbarrow. He kept working even though he was aware of her presence.

  “Herr Stablemaster,” she asked bravely. “Do you have a horse and a wagon to rent?”

  He stopped working to look directly at her. “Yes.”

  “I was camping with my brother and a friend, and my friend injured his leg. We will need a wagon to take him to the nearest railroad station.”

  She saw a kindling of amusement rise in his eyes. He does not believe me, she thought with sudden fear. He will call the police. They will arrest me, find Stephen and Jakob, then deport the three of us back to Russia. I was a fool to stop here. I should have looked for Jews.

  “The nearest railroad station is at Gumbinnen,” he replied, the gleam still in his eyes. “That’s over forty kilometers away. How do you plan to get my horse and wagon back to me?”

  Hanna bit on her lip. “My brother will bring them back,” she finally said.

  The man was almost smiling openly now. He shook his head. “If you want to rent them for so long a trip, I will provide the driver. You will have to pay for the trip up and back, and overnight lodging, and food.”

  Hanna’s pounding heart slowed down. He knew they were escaping from Russia, she gathered. This must have happened many times before. “How much will it cost?” she asked apprehensively.

  “Twenty marks,” he said at once, the amusement in his eyes turning sharply mercenary.

  Hanna took a deep breath. “I have only rubles,” she said.

  “One hundred,” replied the German.

  One hundred! Her mouth nearly dropped open in surprise. “I will have to speak to my brother,” she managed to say, her brain whirling with the incredible sum being discussed.

  “Very well.” Without another word, he turned back to his work.

  Hanna walked swiftly out of the door and down the street. At a bend in the road, she stepped into the woods and peered back at the way she had come. Nobody was following her. She waited a few minutes to be certain. The town was waking up and people were already in the streets, but nothing sparked her suspicions. Quickly, she was on her way again, and in ten minutes she was near the point where she had left the two men. Her heart grew light when she saw Stephen step out from a concealed path.

  He looked searchingly down the road, and then kissed her tenderly on the lips. “I’ve been waiting for you. How did you make out?”

  “The village is just a verst or two away. The stableman there said he would rent a horse and wagon to take us to the railroad station at Gumbinnen, about forty versts north of here.” Her face fell as she gave him the harsh news. “He wants one hundred rubles.”

  “That’s outrageous!” snapped Stephen.

  “I guess it is because he must send a driver along with us to bring back the wagon.”

  Stephen took in a large breath of air to calm himself. “Well, that does make sense.” He looked closely at her. “Was he…well, suspicious?”

  “I’m not sure.” She took his arm and started up the trail to where they had left Jakob. “But he is clearly after the money. How is Jakob?”

  “It’s hard to tell. One minute I’m sure he’s dead, then the next he comes out of his coma as lucid as a magistrate, gives a quick smile, then passes out again. He certainly won’t last the forty versts, even in a wagon,” observed Stephen.

  “We must go on until we find help, “she said. “Can you spare the money for the horse and wagon?”

  Stephen nodded. “I brought over two hundred rubles with me.”

  Hanna knew it was now the time to speak her piece. She took a deep breath, her face tight with suppressed emotion. “Stephen, once Jakob is aboard the wagon, I want you to go back to Russia.”

  He stared at her incre
dulously. “Go back! Of course not. I’m going on with you.”

  She shook her head. “No, my dearest one. There is nothing you can do in Germany.”

  “I will learn the language. Then I will find a job.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I can do many things, Hanna. But there is one thing I cannot do. I cannot think of life without you.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes, and a torrent of love and longing flowed through her body. For a few moments her resolution weakened, and then she put aside the fear she felt at going on alone, without his strong, protective arms to support her. “You cannot come, my darling. It will be dangerous enough just for Jakob and myself.” She realized at once that she had taken the wrong tack. “Look, Stephen,” she went on quickly, before he could reply. “Go back to the university. In two years, you will have your degree. During that time, learn German. Then we will meet in Germany.”

  His face had taken on that iron-willed expression she had come to know so well. He was as unshakeable as a giant oak once he had made up his mind. “We will go on together,” he said softly, his face set in stone.

  She looked down at her folded hands, clasped so tightly that fingernail marks showed. “All right, Stephen,” she said, just as softly, relief flooding her every pore. “We will talk of this again, later.” She held out her hand. “May I have the money, please?”

  He counted out the rubles she needed. “What about Jakob?” he asked. “We won’t get ten paces with his hair like that. That driver will know he’s Jewish at first sight. The Germans don’t like the Jews anymore than the Russians do.”

  “It’s against Torah,” she said sadly.

  “His Torah or yours?”

  She grinned weakly at his welcome attempt at humor. “It is the same. We see it from…” she held out her right hand, “…this side, while he sees it from…” she held out her left hand, “…this side.”

  “Those curls can grow again,” he observed wryly. “We have only to be caught once.”

  She looked down at the pallid man. “I would not want him to die without his peiyes.”

  “God would understand.”

  Hanna looked at him closely. He had spoken in earnest. “I wonder,” she said softly, “if you will ever know how very much I love you.” She paused. “Cut them off. I will get the wagon. I should be back in an hour or so.”

  “We will be waiting by the side of the road.”

  It was nearer an hour and a half when she returned in a light traveling wagon, seated next to a red-faced youth of eighteen or so. She had worked her magic on the young man, Stephen saw at once, for the moment the wagon stopped, he jumped to the ground, dropped the tailgate, and then walked swiftly to where the two men were waiting and gave Stephen a hand to carefully lay Jakob on a pile of straw that the stableman had placed in the bed of the vehicle. Hanna was startled at how different Jakob looked without his peives. He seemed so much younger and so vulnerable. Stephen climbed into the back with Jakob, the driver resumed his seat, and they set off at once.

  They reached the road going north to Gumbinnen just before they came to the village, and made the turn. “His name is Gunther,” she said to Stephen.

  Gunther turned his head and grinned at both Hanna and Stephen. He was a careful driver, they saw at once, for although the road was in first class condition, he avoided even the slightest of bumps or ruts. After a few minutes, Hanna passed back to Stephen slices of fresh bread and cheese she had purchased in town, then some to Gunther, who nodded his thanks. She had two bottles of water, and they finished one off with the breakfast. When they were done, Hanna motioned for Stephen to trade seats, then she sat alongside Jakob. His eyes were open.

  She bent closer to him. “Jakob, do you want some water?”

  A hand went weakly to his head. “He cut my hair,” he whispered.

  “He had to. We are in Prussia now. We could not take the chance.”

  Tears glistened in his eyes, then they closed. His lips moved. She leaned nearer trying to hear until she realized he was praying for forgiveness. She waited until he finished, poured water in a tin cup, and lifted his head to drink. He sipped greedily, then sighed with fatigue.

  “Are you in pain?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “It’s much less now,” he replied in a reedy voice, but with such clarity that she immediately felt his forehead to see if he was beginning to hallucinate. It was cool to her touch.

  “You seem better,” she said, joy spreading over her face.

  “Hold up there!” came a harsh, sudden command. At the same time, a group of half a dozen mounted riders erupted from a thicket bordering the road, pointing pistols and rifles at them! Gunther yanked the horse to a stop.

  Hanna’s blood turned to ice. They were police, she guessed at once. She stared with horror at Stephen. He had started rising, but at a gesture with a pistol by an officer who seemed to be in command, he sank back to his seat. His face had paled with shock.

  Like clockwork, the police surrounded the wagon. Half of the group dismounted, one grasping the bridle of the horse to control it while the others roughly pulled Hanna and Stephen from the wagon. A second officer leaped into the back to stand guard over Jakob.

  As frightened as she was, Hanna called out to the man in the rear. “He is badly injured! Please do not hurt him.”

  The commander dismounted. He was a tall, heavy-faced sergeant, his twenty centimeter high leather helmet making him seem a giant. “How is that man in the back?” he asked Gunther.

  “He is pretty sick,” answered the youth. “She is telling the truth.”

  Hanna’s face flared with disgust. They had been betrayed! Clearly the owner of the stable and Gunther had taken her money, and then had helped set the trap. She had sealed their doom. What a fool she had been. Stupid! Stupid! To come so far, with such effort–and then be lured into this trap. Shock set in, and she began trembling.

  Stephen moved towards her. Two of the officers grasped his arms. With a mighty surge, he threw them off. Two more grabbed him. He fought back furiously, trying to break free. With a nod from the commander, one of the police stepped in and struck Stephen on the side of his head with the butt of his rifle! Stephen staggered, then with a roar of fury, he flung off the two men and whirled, punching the officer who had struck him full in the face. Hanna gasped at the sight of blood pouring from Stephen’s head. In an instant, three of the police leaped upon the raging man, bearing him to the ground. Twisting his arms violently behind him, they snapped on a pair of handcuffs, and then yanked him to his feet.

  Hanna’s shaking had stopped. Now she was furious. “Cossacks!” she spit out at them. “Dirty, brutal Cossacks!”

  “Be quiet,” growled the sergeant. “Or you’ll get a taste of the same.”

  “Go ahead,” snapped Hanna tightly. “All he wanted to do was comfort me.”

  She saw from the squaring of the German’s jaw that he was debating whether to give an order to strike her, then he let out his pent up breath. “Search the three of them and the wagon. Then get them back in.”

  With practiced efficiency, they were thoroughly checked, Hanna going taut as one of the police dispassionately patted parts of her body, and then Stephen and she were lifted into the rear of the wagon, accompanied by one of the guards.

  “How are you?” she asked Stephen with deep concern. A trickle of blood was seeping from the side of his head.

  “Be quiet,” ordered the officer harshly.

  Stephen ignored what he knew was an order to remain silent. He tried to smile. “I’m all right. But I’ll bet a ruble that I’ll have a headache tomorrow.”

  “Speak in German,” shouted the officer, gripping his rifle more tightly.

  “He does not know German,” explained Hanna.

  “Then stop talking, or I will throw him off the wagon and drag him along at the end of a rope.”

  The police escorted the wagon and the prisoners at a trot to the village, and to the far end to a
large official complex. It was a military post, with sturdy barracks built round a hard-packed earthen parade field. Stables were positioned to the rear, bordering a slow moving stream. At one corner was a tall, impressive three-storied brick building with a well-tended lawn and beds of flowers in full bloom. At the entrance was a sign noting that here was the headquarters of the 347th Imperial Border Police Company.

  On the other side of the parade field was a similar building, almost twice the size, with an equally well-tended lawn and flower beds, bearing a sign of the Headquarters, 71st Imperial Grenadier Battalion. Soldiers in blue uniforms were drilling on one side of the field, while police in green drilled on the other.

  The police must have been apprised of the injured man, for as the wagon drew to a halt before the headquarters building, two men came up with a litter. Hanna and Stephen jumped down to the ground while Jakob was placed onto it and carried towards a small white-washed building bearing a red cross.

  “Come,” ordered the sergeant, motioning Hanna and Stephen into the headquarters. Accompanied by a two man escort, they were led down a wide corridor to a small, windowless room. Inside was a table and two chairs. The room was antiseptically clean, its red tile floor newly mopped, the walls and ceiling neatly, almost devotedly, white-washed.

  “Stand there,” barked the sergeant, pointing towards the wall. When Stephen stopped in his tracks, not understanding, one of the police shoved him against the wall.

  Almost on cue, the door opened and in came a short, slim man in uniform with a row of medals on his chest and carrying a note pad. The sergeant and the policemen snapped to stiff attention. The slim man’s sharp blue eyes darted into those of the two prisoners, and then he sat on one of the chairs at the table, opened the pad, took a fountain pen from his pocket, and deliberately uncapped it.

  “Did you have any trouble apprehending these people?” he asked the sergeant in a cool, brisk voice.

  “The man gave some trouble, Herr Inspector,” replied the sergeant. “We had to subdue him.”

  “He resisted arrest?”