A Cobbler's Tale

by Neil Perry Gordon

  “Papa, tell us about America,” Jennie said, as the children sat around their father.

  “I am sure your mother has read to you my letters, but I will tell you again. My life in America has been good.”

  He began recounting his adventures over the past four years. He told of the success of the Landsman Society, which he said would please the rabbi. He described the cobbler shop, how he and Jakob had built it into a thriving business. Just as he began to describe the journey back home, there came a sharp rap at the door, and in walked the rabbi followed by Shmuel.

  “Look at you, Pincus,” the rabbi said. He took a step closer and stretched out his arms in preparation for a hug.

  “Don’t, Rabbi!” Moshe shouted. “Papa is injured. He hurt his shoulder.”

  “I see,” the rabbi said, looking at the sling. He shook hands instead and looked at Pincus for a good while.

  He stood aside and asked, “Do you recognize this fine young man?”

  “Is this Shmuel?” asked Pincus, unsure of the six-foot, three-inch man standing in front of him.

  “It’s me, Pincus,” said Shmuel, offering his hand.

  Pincus looked down at Shmuel’s maimed left hand and said, “What happened to your hand?”

  “An unfortunate encounter in Lviv,” he answered.

  “I’ll tell you about all that later. It was too complicated to explain in a letter,” said Clara. “Please, let’s sit down. Jennie has prepared a meal.”

  The rabbi led a prayer thanking Hashem for delivering Pincus back to them.

  “This is our last challah,” Clara said, putting the freshly baked twisted loaf in the center of the table.

  “Would you please say the blessing, Moshe,” asked the rabbi who looked over to Pincus. “He’s a bar mitzvah now, Pincus.”

  After Moshe recited the blessing for the bread, Jennie placed a tureen of soup in the center of the table. Clara carefully ladled out an equal share into each of the nine bowls, leaving the tureen empty.

  The blended aromas of the potatoes, onions, carrots, and chicken broth had everyone clutching at their spoons. Clara sat across from Pincus and watched him carefully take a spoonful. He closed his eyes and seemed to drift away for a moment. Placing the spoon back in the bowl, he cupped his hands to his face and started to weep.

  Clara rose from her chair and took a step around the table to put her arm around her husband. “Pincus, are you okay?”

  Pincus moved his hands away from his face. “I am happy to be home and find everyone safe,” he said, looking into the tearful eyes of his children.

  With the meal finished and dishes cleaned, the family remained huddled at the table for hours. Clara and the rabbi shared many stories about Moshe and his trials, tribulations, and triumphs. She recounted the support that Shmuel had provided the family and the maiming he had suffered protecting Moshe.

  Clara, knowing there would be plenty of time to reminisce, interrupted the storytelling and looked at Pincus and Jakob. “How do you plan on getting us out of here?”

  Jakob walked over to the window and looked out to make sure his next words would not be overheard. Standing at the end of the table, he had everyone’s attention.

  “We are going to travel in the wagon back the way we came. Once we get to Hamburg, we will need to find a boat to take us to the city of Arendal in Norway. When we get there, we have the name of a man who can get us passage on a Norwegian America Line ship,” Jakob said.

  Clara couldn’t believe that outrageous plan. “You want to take the eight of us in that wagon,” she said, pointing in the direction of where the horses were tied up, “through the Galician countryside, travel the length of Germany, put us on a boat to traverse the Baltic Sea, find a stranger in a faraway city, and then sail across the Atlantic Ocean to America—all this in the middle of winter and in the midst of a war?”

  Jakob looked at Pincus who said, “There’s one more thing. We have these.” He held out the royal papers. “They provided us clear passage getting here. We are hoping they will do the same getting us back.”

  Clara looked at the documents and wondered if a piece of paper signed by some prince would be enough to keep her family safe from the ravages of war. But she knew there was no choice but to attempt their departure. The fighting would only worsen, and the stories she had heard about the Russians’ wiping out entire villages were becoming ever more frequent.

  She looked at the rabbi, who stared back at her, nodding.

  “Okay, we will do this on one condition.”

  “What is that?” asked Pincus.

  “That we take Shmuel with us. We owe it to him and to his father to bring him safely to America,” she insisted.

  “Of course we will take Shmuel. I already promised his father I would.”

  “Great, it’s settled,” announced Jakob. “We leave tomorrow morning. Only take the absolute essentials. We can fit two people in the seat up front, and the rest will need to make do in the wooden crate in the wagon.”

  “We will prepare tonight,” Clara said.

  CHAPTER 57

  AVOIDING KRAKOW

  While Hymie and Anna slept, Jakob worked along with Jennie and Shmuel, preparing the wooden crate for the journey. It would be their living space for the next week or two. They laid out the blankets to make it as comfortable as possible. Along with their clothes, they packed a few cooking essentials so they could make do cooking by a fire, when necessary.

  Meanwhile Clara, Pincus, and Moshe sat up in the rabbi’s study. Dawn was only a few hours away, their departure imminent, but the rabbi had asked them to visit with him before they left for good.

  “I know you’re anxious to be on your way, Pincus,” the rabbi began, “but there is something we need to discuss concerning Moshe.”

  The rabbi told Pincus and Clara about Moshe’s abilities and his belief that the boy carried the blessing and burden of being a tzaddik. He told of the several instances of Moshe’s episodes, confirmed by Clara. The rabbi spoke of what his teaching from the Talmud taught on the ways of the tzaddik. He also warned of the dangers he might face from those wishing to do him harm.

  Pincus shared the reading he’d had with Dora Meltzer on the voyage to America four years ago. “She told me that my eldest son had a unique gift.”

  “Careful, Pincus, she may be a rasha. They are the dark counterpart to the tzaddik. Moshe must never meet this woman, at least not until he has fully matured and developed his defenses,” the rabbi said.

  “You say there are only thirty-six tzaddikim on the earth at any time, Rabbi. Who are they besides Moshe?” Pincus asked.

  “They are unknown, and Moshe must be as well. I shouldn’t be sharing what I know, even about your own son. But I believe the circumstances require it.”

  The rabbi stood up, put on his tallit, and asked Pincus, Clara, and Moshe to stand. He gathered them in close, wrapping his long arms around them and prayed.

  O Lord, grant that this night we may sleep in peace.

  And that in the morning our awakening may also be in peace.

  May our daytime be cloaked in your peace.

  Protect us and inspire us to think and act only out of love.

  Keep far from us all evil; may our paths be free from all obstacles from when we go out until we return home.

  Pincus stood by the wagon, looking at the home he and his children had all been born in. When everyone had gathered, he announced, “Take your last look, children. Never forget where you come from.”

  “We won’t forget, Papa,” Jennie said.

  “In America, your lives will be different. They’ll be better. But always remember our home, the place of your birth.”

  “We will, Papa,” Jennie said.

  “I promise not to forget,” added Moshe.

  “Me too,” Hymie chimed in.

  Pincus looked over to Clara expecting her to add a few warm words to comfort the children’s farewell. Instead she muttered, while wiping away a tear, “As if
things were that simple.”

  “Don’t be sad, Clara,” Pincus said, focusing on her tears instead of her remark.

  She gave a Pincus a dismissive look and said briskly, “That’s enough. We have a long way to travel. Come on, children, let’s get going.”

  Under a cloak of darkness, Clara, Shmuel, and the children settled themselves in the crate. Once inside, with the lid placed on, the crate offered a bit of comfort and warmth, and the spaces between the planks allowed fresh air to circulate.

  Jakob grabbed the reins of the rested and fed horses and slowly moved down the street. Jakob turned his head toward Pincus, who was looking around the dark street where he lived his entire life up until four years ago.

  “You didn’t have a chance to show me around,” Jakob whispered.

  “There’s nothing left to see here. Our lives are in America now.”

  The heavy gray clouds prevented the sun from illuminating the road ahead of them. They decided the first stop would be in the city of Rzeszow. There they could safely stretch their legs, empty their bladders and bowels, and get updates on the fighting.

  As they approached the guard posts from the southwest, the same soldiers that had bid them farewell a few days earlier recognized them and allowed them entrance into the fortified city.

  Once safely inside, they pulled the wagon over to a field next to a bombed out building. Jakob and Pincus lifted the wooden lid off the crate to see six relieved faces staring back.

  “How did you do?” asked Pincus.

  “It’s fine. Let’s get the children out quickly. Hymie is about to burst,” Clara said.

  “Come, Hymie,” Pincus said, reaching in and lifting the boy out. He jumped off the back of the wagon, pulled down his drawers, and peed a long stream.

  After a short rest, everyone found his or her place, and they resumed their journey. It took about thirty minutes to make it across the town to the western road leading to Krakow. Hearing reports of their return to the city, Captain Gertz stood waiting for them as the neared the gate.

  “Gentlemen, I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” he said.

  “Good day, Captain,” said Jakob. “We are heading back to Krakow. Would you know if the road is safe?”

  “The road may be safe, but the reports are that Krakow is back under Russian siege. You can’t make it safely through the city—especially with your precious cargo.” he added quietly. “I’d advise sticking to the back roads south of the city and then making your way north to Kattowitz.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Jakob said.

  “Good luck to you,” said the captain, who ordered his men to allow the wagon to leave the city.

  As the sun set before them, and with their rifles by their sides, Jakob and Pincus took a detour off the main road a few miles outside of Krakow.

  “How do we know which way to go?” asked Pincus.

  “We don’t. Let’s just hope we find a few friendly faces along the way to guide us.”

  Sounds of heavy guns and artillery soon broke through the clopping of the horses’ hoofs on the packed, snow-covered roads. The smell of gunpowder and sulfur filtered down from the dark gray sky.

  “We should stop and make sure everyone is okay,” suggested Jakob.

  “I don’t know, Jakob, the fighting sounds very close to us. Maybe we should try to get some more distance.”

  The horses followed the narrow path farther and farther away from the blasts and earth-shaking vibrations. Jakob brought them to a complete stop. They sat there for a moment in complete silence. The air, though frigid, smelled clean.

  “Let’s let them out,” Jakob said.

  “You must be completely quiet,” Pincus instructed as they all climbed out of the crate.

  “Where are we?” asked Clara.

  “South of Krakow,” Jakob whispered. “We will spend the night here. The horses need rest. Pincus and I will take turns on watch. Get the children back inside the crate quickly.”

  “Do you think it’s okay to make a fire?” asked Clara.

  “Not here, it’s too dangerous,” said Jakob.

  “Okay, I’ll get the children taken care of. Thank you, Jakob.”

  “You don’t need to thank me. We’re all in this together.”

  With everyone else asleep in the crate, Jakob sat on the wagon bench with the shotgun lying across his knees. Occasional sounds of artillery drifted over, followed by a slight smell of gunpowder. Clouds backlit by the moon illuminated the small clearing.

  Silence eventually took over the night. Nothing could be heard. Not the artillery miles away in Krakow or the small animals in the forest. Sleep had seeped into the world, and Jakob marveled at it. Then he heard it. First the snap of a branch, then the rustle of some dried leaves. He heard footsteps and a moment later ten rifles slid out from the darkness and into the clearing, all pointing at Jakob.

  CHAPTER 58

  MEANT FOR US

  Armed men with rifles took aim at Jakob.

  “Pincus, you need to wake up,” Jakob said, raising his arms into the air.

  “What is it?” he asked, lifting his head out of the crate.

  “We have visitors,” Jakob answered.

  Pincus woke up Clara, Shmuel, and the children, and one by one they climbed out.

  Clara pushed Anna and Hymie behind her and grabbed Moshe and Jennie by their coat collars. Pincus took a step in front of Clara. Shmuel stood bravely by, holding on to the knife the rabbi had given him for his trip to Lviv.

  Jakob stepped forward and said, “We are trying to escape to the German border. Can you help us?”

  A low, raspy voice said, “Why did you come this way?”

  “Because of the fighting in Krakow. We detoured to the south, but we lost our way.”

  The voice continued, “Why would you think it safe to travel through Krakow?”

  “We just passed through Krakow five days ago and had no problems,” said Jakob.

  There was no reply. Clara continued to watch Jakob, wondering what he would say next, but he merely looked at Pincus and shrugged. She could hear quiet, indistinguishable voices all around them.

  Then the men in the shadows suddenly withdrew their weapons, as heavy footsteps directed everyone’s attention to a large man walking toward them. Stepping from the darkness into the light was a man with the face of a gentle giant.

  “My friends, we heard how a certain prince of the Weimar bamboozled you,” said the man with a booming laugh, a welcoming smile, and light blue eyes. “We are—or should I say were—your contact for the delivery of the guns.”

  Jakob smiled and said, “You must be Saul. My contacts in America told me about you.”

  “Yes, yes I’m Saul. Now let’s get you some food and a warm place to rest for the night, and in the morning my men will escort you to the border.”

  Later that night, while everyone else slept, Clara lay awake on a straw mattress on a barn floor with adrenaline still pumping through her. She replayed the moment the guns emerged from trees. How the steel barrels glimmered from the moonlight casting this surreal image of doom. While her first instinct had been to protect the children, Pincus’s first instinct had been to protect his whole family, including her.

  This act of love was something he had never demonstrated before. Had he changed over the years he’d been away? Before he left for America, Pincus would never have acted so courageously. She recalled back in the shtetl when she had overheard some men walking by the cobbler shop and gossiping about her husband’s shameful meekness and desire to avoid confrontation at all costs. The Pincus she was seeing now was not the same man. I suppose that happens to people under great stress, she mused. I hope this change proves to be permanent.

  Then she thought of Moshe and the events of that prior evening. Why hadn’t he had an episode moments before they emerged out of the crate? He always senses danger to himself or to his family. It then occurred to her that there had been no danger after all. She remembered looking at M
oshe in the heat of the moment, with the guns trained on them, and he had returned her look of panic with a calm gaze. He had known everything would be okay.

  Moshe’s ability to foreshadow events didn’t relieve Clara’s terrible burden, the secret that continued to haunt her dreams. She shuddered, thinking of Berbecki’s violation of her body. Could she ever overcome the heartache she felt that her once-fond memories of Krzywcza, the birthplace of her children, would forever be tarnished? On top of all of that, this was something that she would never share with anyone, especially not with Pincus. No one could ever know the sacrifice she had made to protect her oldest son.

  CHAPTER 59

  A GOOD JEW

  Their host Saul ended up being a warm and generous man. He told of their militia of Jewish fighters throughout Galicia and their holy war against the Russians.

  “Those guns would have been a great help against the barbarians,” Saul lamented.

  They certainly would have, Jakob agreed silently. If only I could get my hands on that crooked prince. But he kept his vengeful thoughts to himself and said, “We are sorry, Saul, for having allowed the prince to con us. It is very embarrassing.”

  “That’s all right. Your intentions were noble. I am sure that our rich Jewish friends in America have heard about the mishap and are right now scheming to replace the lost guns with a new shipment.

  “At least you got yourself the royal travel documents. That should get you through Germany without any interference from the military. Bandits, on the other hand, won’t care about the prince’s papers,” Saul warned.

  The next morning, they offered thanks and goodbyes to Saul and his men. Saul provided a map and directions to Berlin.

  “My men will escort you to the border. Once in Germany, stay on the main roads all the way to Berlin. When you get there, go to this address.” He wrote the name and address on the map. “He is a good friend, a Jew. Tell him I sent you for his assistance. He will help get you to Hamburg and on a boat to Arendal.”