“What did he do?” someone on his way to church asked.
“He’s a thief,” answered the policeman.
“Faster!” The policeman raised his voice.
When the wanderer didn’t do what the policeman wanted, he swung his whip at him. The wanderer fell down. The angry policeman kept hitting him.
People looked from their houses, but no one made a sound. Yanek wanted to get up and rescue the beaten man from the policeman, but Grandpa Sergei whispered to him, “Not now.”
The way to the detention cell took a long time. The policemen spoke to each other and answered the questions of passersby. In the end the older policeman told the people who had gathered around what the wanderer’s sin was: he had been caught in a garden, picking up fruit that had fallen from the trees. When the owner of the orchard ordered him to leave, the wanderer claimed that the fallen fruit belonged to the poor. Finally the owner of the orchard had to drag him out. He kept muttering, claiming he was within his rights. He was dragged to the police station, and there, too, he claimed that the fruit he had gathered had fallen. The policemen ordered him to shut up, confess to his crime, and pay a fine. The man refused to admit he was a thief. There was no choice but to take him to the detention cell. The policeman spoke in a businesslike way, like someone who was doing his duty, and his conscience was clear.
Grandpa Sergei listened and said, “That wanderer is a warrior, born and bred. If we had a lot of men like him, we could form a regiment.”
28
They continued on the way to the village of Saint Mary, which was named after the nearby monastery, which was around twelve miles from the village.
They climbed up a mountain. Broad green fields and gardens spread out at the foot of the mountain, and their colors were beautiful. Marvelous tranquility lay upon them.
Yanek told Grandpa Sergei what his eyes saw. Grandpa Sergei remembered the place and said, “I loved to come here with my soldiers and train them. After training we would sit and listen to the silence that rose from the fields and gardens. Now I’m blind and I only see what I once saw.”
While Yanek was contemplating that beauty, he saw two young boys attacking a wanderer. They knocked him down, kicked him, and spat at him. Yanek, without asking Grandpa Sergei’s permission, leaped out, grabbed them by their coats, and threw them down.
“Why are you attacking a helpless man?”
“He’s a tramp.”
“Tramps are also people.”
“They steal.”
“How do you know?”
“They always steal.”
“Now go down on your knees and ask forgiveness from this man.”
They were astonished by that command and said, “Why should we ask forgiveness?”
“Because you kicked him and spat at him. If you don’t ask forgiveness, I’ll do to you exactly what you did to him.”
“What should we say?”
“Say: We ask forgiveness of you for kicking you and spitting at you.”
“We ask for forgiveness.”
“That’s not enough. I’ll say what I said, and you’ll repeat after me.”
They repeated after him word for word, and when they finished asking forgiveness, Yanek said to them, “Don’t forget that you swore to God. God sees everything and hears everything.”
“We won’t forget,” they answered together.
“I’d better not see you hitting a helpless man again. I’ll beat you till you bleed.”
The wanderer was astonished by Yanek’s courage. He stood next to his pack without saying a word. “Don’t be afraid,” said Yanek, touching his shoulder. In the end the wanderer recovered his wits and asked, “Who are you?”
“I’m Grandpa Sergei’s grandson. He was a soldier in a special unit.”
“Do you help wanderers?”
“If someone attacks them.”
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” the wanderer spoke with a tremor in his voice.
“It’s just a bit of help,” said Yanek.
This time, too, Grandpa Sergei was pleased with Yanek’s conduct, and he said, “Hero. You also spoke excellently.”
But for some reason Yanek’s spirits fell. He didn’t understand where he had gotten the strength to attack. If he had to do it again, he wouldn’t know how.
He shared his feeling with Grandpa Sergei. Grandpa Sergei, after thinking about it, said, “If a person sticks to a just mission, his movements and his strength are doubled. You have to pray that God will be with you at hard moments.”
“Does a fighter for justice have to train all his life?” Yanek asked.
“Certainly. He has to be strong. A weak body can’t carry out great missions. Only a strong body and a sturdy spirit can do the impossible. You have to fortify your body every day with training, and at the same time pray that God won’t abandon us.”
“Thank you, Grandpa Sergei,” said Yanek, and tears welled up in his eyes.
That night the thunder on the horizon grew louder. Grandpa Sergei said softly, in his special way, “The Red Army is advancing. It won’t be long before it reaches us, and the wicked will beg for their lives, and all the innocent people who were sent to camps will come back home.”
That night Grandpa Sergei seemed to be a head taller, as though he was about to rise from his bed and put on his uniform. His blindness left his face, and he looked like a commander about to set out at the head of his soldiers.
“Immunity doesn’t last forever,” Grandpa Sergei repeated several times. “In the end the wicked fall into the abyss. But until victory comes, we can expect severe trials. Yanek, you have to be in perfect shape to counter all local violence. We, in the end, are not wanted here. It’s impossible to know what bad men are plotting. We have to be awake and alert, and pray that God will be with us.”
They both folded their sacks and lay their heads on them.
“Good night, Yanek.”
“Good night, Grandpa.”
29
Without delay they headed toward the village of Saint Mary. On the way they stopped near a well. Yanek pulled up a bucket of water, and they quenched their thirst.
Grandpa Sergei said, “We say, ‘the water of life,’ because there’s no life without water. God gave us this foundation of life in abundance as a gift. There’s a pond, a well, or a river in every corner. We have to learn to say a blessing for the water.”
Without going far off Yanek saw a poplar tree suitable for camping that night. It was still very light out. Yanek was weary, but he wasn’t lazy about making the campfire. Grandpa Sergei said, “Brave boy.”
Yanek made cornmeal porridge and sprinkled raspberries on it. He served a full plate to Grandpa Sergei and a little less to himself. After the meal he prepared a cup of tea and lit his pipe for him. After washing the dishes he said, “Good night, Grandpa Sergei. I’m going to sleep.”
“Happy dreams,” said Grandpa Sergei.
As soon as he lay his head on the sack, he fell asleep. He slept without interruption and got up early. The fire was still dormant, and Yanek added a few branches and revived it.
Grandpa Sergei woke up, washed his hands and face, and said, “I dreamed that I was in my parents’ house. My parents came back from the field, and my mother was making lunch. The good smell of a cornmeal pie full of cherries rose from the oven. The crust was turning brown, and soon everyone would get a portion. The pie tin was large, and everyone would get seconds. Meanwhile Father put a bowl of cream on the table, and next to it a plate of cheese, and a hunk of yellow butter.
“Father turned to me and asked: ‘Where have you been?’
“‘In the army,’ I answered.
“‘Are you still in service?’
“‘Yes,’ I answer.
“‘It seemed to me you’d already been released.’
“‘You don’t get released from the army,’ I answered, wondering to myself why I had spoken that way.
“But amazingly, my vision returned
to me, and I could see my father and mother with great clarity. I hesitate as to whether I should tell them that I’d been blind for years, and now my vision had returned to me. I told Father: ‘You mustn’t take things for granted.’
“‘What do you mean?’ Father asked.
“‘For example, our vision. It’s not self-evident. Today you see, and tomorrow you’re blind.’
“‘Is that what the army teaches?’ Father asks.
“‘Correct.’
“‘If that’s what it teachers, bless it. How is service?’ Father goes on to ask me.
“‘I do my duty.’
“‘Will you always be in the army and never have a wife or a house?’
“‘A soldier is allowed to marry,’ I answer, ‘but the leaves are short, just once a month. And if there’s an alert, leaves are canceled. When I finish with the army, I’ll get married.’
“When they hear my answer, Father and Mother laughed.
“I was glad to see my parents and the house. They had gotten old, but they were still living their lives in silence and moderation. I was careful not to make them sad. True, I didn’t always understand them, and they didn’t always understand me. Now, it seems to me, the bumps had been smoothed out. Every time I see them in a dream, I’m glad all day long. My mother’s food melts in my mouth, and Father has wisdom about life that he inherited from past generations. Before their death, they suffered a lot, but they retained the image of God.” Sergei summed up and immediately sank into silence.
The village of Saint Mary is pretty, with tasteful houses and well-tended gardens. With the money they’d collected, they’d buy food for a few days, but where can you buy here?
Grandpa Sergei rose to his feet and asked a passerby where to buy dairy products and bread.
“Not far from here, in the grocery store.”
“God bless you.”
“And you, too.”
Yanek didn’t delay but went out to shop. There were no customers in the grocery store, and the woman who owned it asked Yanek, “What do you want?”
“A loaf of bread.”
“Anything else?”
“A piece of cheese and a jug of milk, vegetables and potatoes.”
“I’ll take care of everything right away. Where are you from?”
“I’m here with Grandpa Sergei. We’re going to visit his sister in the village of Zhadovitse.”
Before long the groceries he had asked for were lying on the counter.
“How much to pay?”
“Fifty marks.”
Yanek was glad he hadn’t spent more money than usual. After he told Grandpa what he had bought and how much he’d paid, he admitted that he’d told a lie.
“How’s that?” Grandpa Sergei was surprised.
“When I was asked what I was doing and where I was heading, I told the owner of the store: Grandpa and I are going to visit his sister.”
“That’s not a lie, that’s a deception. That’s how you deceive the enemy,” said Grandpa, and they both laughed.
That night was clear and chilly. The campfire gave off pleasant warmth. Grandpa Sergei told him that if everything went well, they would also go to the monastery of Saint Mary. “A lot of pilgrims gather in the monastery in this season, and if fortune shines upon us, we’ll get contributions for the next season.”
“Will we go into the monastery?”
“The monastery is very well kept up, surrounded by gardens. There’s a courtyard at its gate, and that’s where wanderers and sick people of various kinds gather. Sometimes they allow the wanderers to enter without their bundles. It’s very crowded, and you have to watch over your bundles with great vigilance. Twice I got fine contributions there. Once I wrestled with three ruffians and in the end they stole my bundle, and I was left without any equipment.”
“Do we have to go there?” asked Yanek.
“A person has to take care of himself before he asks from God.”
“Maybe the Red Army will come and liberate us?”
“Let’s pray and wait for its arrival.”
30
Yanek prepared supper. Grandpa Sergei praised the bread and vegetables, and he added what he occasionally used to say, “A person isn’t alone in the world.”
Yanek was frightened. Since he wrestled with the boys, he feared that his strength would fail him in the next trial. Grandpa Sergei says that everything flows from within. If the mission is clear and just, a person’s strength is redoubled, and God adds to it.
Grandpa Sergei drank his tea and puffed on his pipe for a long time, and at last he said, “Yanek, my dear, please read me the first psalm in the Book of Psalms. But please be gracious and read it very slowly, so that I can absorb the words and the melody.”
“Grandpa Sergei, don’t you understand the words of the psalms?”
“I’ve already told you that I don’t understand. There’s no reason to understand prayer. You just have to pray.”
Yanek doesn’t stop training. His body had filled out in the last month, and he looked older than his age. In his dreams he’s at home, next to his father and mother. Sometimes it seems to him that his parents haven’t changed. Only he has changed. They observe him and are surprised by the change that has taken place in him.
“What did Grandpa Sergei do for you so that you changed so much?”
“I trained, and I keep training,” Yanek answered.
“What else do you do?”
“I make meals for Grandpa and myself.”
“Where do you sleep?”
“Most of the time outdoors.”
The astonishment in his parents’ eyes grew, and finally his father said: “We must get used to this. We were in camps, and we underwent difficult trials. It’s impossible to talk about them now. Maybe it’s forbidden to speak about them.”
“Strange, I can’t see it in you,” says Yanek.
“Maybe we didn’t change outwardly, but we’re different inside.”
“I have to go back to where I was, Father,” Yanek says and stands up.
“Don’t go. Don’t leave us,” a strong voice left his father’s lips and shook him.
Yanek woke up.
The night passed without any difficulties. Yanek added branches to the dormant campfire, and the branches caught fire. A campfire burning during the cold morning hours imbues you with vigor that you feel throughout the day.
While he was getting ready to go on a run, a dog came, a puppy, and it sat among the bundles and packs. Yanek was surprised. He went over to it and patted it and then brought it to Grandpa Sergei.
Grandpa Sergei felt it with his hands and said, “He’s barely half a year old. He’s still a puppy. He won’t be an adult dog for another three months.”
The puppy sensed that they liked him and expressed his satisfaction with little barks.
“Where did you come to us from?” Grandpa Sergei spoke to him in a calm voice. “We’ll watch over you, and you’ll watch over us. We’ll be hungry together and full together.” So they adopted it.
The puppy changed their life. Yanek talked about him on the very first day. When Yanek went out to train, Grandpa Sergei stroked it and said, “As long as you’re a puppy, we won’t train you. But the day will come when we’ll make a strong, proud dog out of you.”
In two days Sunday will come. Despite the open and hidden threats, Grandpa Sergei decided to stay where they were, and on Sunday they would stand at the door of the church. “God knows how I hate standing there in that contemptible way, but there’s no choice. We’ll do it like soldiers carrying out an order.”
Afterward Grandpa Sergei wondered what name to give the puppy. “We can’t keep it with us without a name. A dog without a name is a blemished creature. It has no individuality. Yanek, can you think of a name?”
“Noble,” said Yanek.
“Maybe he’ll be noble when he matures. It’s hard to call a soft puppy Noble now. The heart won’t accept it.”
“Maybe we can
call him Prince,” suggested Yanek.
“That’s softer, more acceptable. Once I had a dog that I called Prince, but he died young,” said Grandpa Sergei with a soft voice.
Since Prince’s arrival, Grandpa Sergei’s silences have gotten shorter. He sits and pats Prince and sometimes talks to him. “The problem is: we don’t have food for Prince, just a saucer of milk, and now we don’t even have that. If we don’t find some sausage, we’ll let him go. We can’t starve him.”
“Too bad,” the words escaped Yanek’s lips.
Meanwhile, the rumbling on the horizon grew stronger. Grandpa Sergei keeps saying they’re close to us. “Collaborators, in their frustration, are liable to attack the weak. The weak are always scapegoats.”
“Will Mother and Father and my grandparents come back from the camps?”
“Most likely,” said Grandpa Sergei before folding the sack and laying his head on it.
Yanek remained on his feet for a long while. The thought that his parents would return from the camps soon excited him, but he didn’t allow himself to be happy. Who knew what we could expect?
On Sunday Yanek woke up early, went out for his morning run, climbed trees, and did boxing exercises. When he returned Grandpa Sergei was awake, and Prince was in his arms. Grandpa Sergei had a very high opinion of Prince. “We’ll train him easily.”
Yanek prepared breakfast: bread, vegetables, and cheese. Were it not for the thought that in an hour they’d stand at the entrance to the church and wait for the worshipers’ generosity, the meal would have made them happier.
Grandpa Sergei, after sipping the tea and puffing on his pipe, said, “We have no choice. We have to go. We’ll do it like soldiers obeying an order they don’t understand.”
At the door of the church there were neither wanderers nor sick people. The worshipers hurried to the prayers and ignored them. For a long while they sat and looked around them: Sunday restfulness lay upon the houses and gardens. When the prayers were over, the worshipers left the church, and some of them left a small contribution in Yanek’s hat.
Long Summer Nights Page 9
