Masters of Silence

by Kathy Kacer

  He placed his finger on the map to show where they were and began to trace a line to the border, through a mountain range and near towns called Meximieux and Poncin, places that Helen had never heard of before.

  “It will take about six days to get to the Swiss border, possibly more, depending on how fast we can walk,” Marcel continued. “We’ll travel only at night, sleeping wherever we can during the day. We have to be as quiet as mice when we walk,” he added, looking at Henry with a smile. “As quiet as Henry used to be.”

  Her brother smiled shyly. Helen gazed down at the map. The distance they would travel was no more than an inch or two on paper. But that small expanse would take so long to cross and cover a terrain that was unfamiliar and probably as hard as last night’s hike had been—maybe harder. She swallowed and looked up at Marcel.

  “And there’s one more thing,” he said. “There is one signal that I’ll give you if there’s any danger. It looks like this.” That’s when he held his hand up in front of them. “If you see me do this”—he twirled his pointer finger in the air in a quick succession of circles—“then you have to jump into any bush that’s close to you, or behind a big tree, or in any deep rut that you see. Don’t hesitate, not even for a second. Find a hiding place that is close and stay perfectly still. It’s the signal that soldiers may be close by.”

  There was complete silence in the barn. Helen felt her heart rate quicken.

  “Do you have any questions?” he asked.

  “What if we do all that and we’re still found?” Helen asked, her voice hoarse and shaky.

  “You are a group of scouts and I am your scoutmaster,” Marcel replied. “We’re on a hike in the woods, designed to teach you survival skills and make you strong.” He stared evenly at Helen. “If we’re ever questioned, and I don’t believe we will be, then I will do the talking. I’m counting on you to follow my directions. Any other questions?”

  Helen gulped. She still had a million: How would they be able to walk for six days or more? Where would they find food? What if someone got hurt? She didn’t even know where to start asking. Albert looked pale next to her but remained silent. But when she glanced over at Henry, she could see that he had a calm and determined look in his eyes. Finally, she looked back at Marcel and shook her head.

  “Good,” he said. “Then sleep some more and we’ll be off as soon as it’s dark.”

  And with that, he turned away and lay down.

  Helen eased her body back down onto the hay and closed her eyes, wondering if she would ever be able to calm herself enough to sleep again.

  CHAPTER 30

  Henry

  The second night of hiking felt harder than the first. The ground had become rockier and less stable, and the muscles in Henry’s legs were burning. In the dark, it was hard to see where to place your foot. One wrong step and you could twist an ankle or worse—break something. Henry had already fallen a couple of times. He had a bloody scrape on one knee and a long gash down the other leg. But he refused to show how painful the cuts were, even when the clown dabbed at them with a strong-smelling liquid that he pulled from his backpack.

  “Are you okay to keep going?” he asked when he paused to attend to Henry’s cuts.

  The antiseptic burned when it touched Henry’s skin. He bit his lower lip so he wouldn’t cry out. Then he looked at Helen, who hovered above him. Even in the darkness, he could see the concern glowing from her eyes. He quickly looked away. “I’m fine,” he said. Then he pulled himself up from the ground and set off again.

  It didn’t help that the clown kept a furious pace, swerving around trees and dodging between bushes as if he were the wind itself moving through the forest. It took every ounce of Henry’s strength just to keep up with him.

  At the same time, Henry had to admit that there was something comforting about being in the woods. The trees reached their long branches down and practically hugged him. Leaves tickled his face as he walked by. Twigs popped and crackled under his feet. It was quiet here, just like the quiet he had grown so accustomed to back at the convent. He wasn’t afraid.

  Suddenly, up ahead, the clown raised his hand. He slowed to a stop and turned to wait for Henry and the others to catch up. They gathered around him. Henry was breathing heavily. The clown, on the other hand, had hardly broken a sweat. He leaned forward to talk to the group.

  “It’s not time to stop yet. But this is a good place for a break.”

  From the darkness that still surrounded him, as well as the position of the moon in the sky, Henry guessed that it would still be a couple of hours before daybreak. But he was glad for the opportunity to rest. He fell onto the forest floor and peeled his bag off his back. Then he rested his head against it. Helen and Albert looked equally relieved to sit. The clown crouched in front of them.

  “There’s a town close by. I need to go and meet someone there.”

  Henry raised his head. Who could the clown possibly have to meet in the middle of the night?

  “I want the three of you to wait here for me,” the clown continued. “Stay hidden. Don’t move and don’t come out until I come back.”

  Henry wasn’t sure he liked the sounds of that. He didn’t want the clown to leave them, even for a few minutes. Besides, he was curious. As the clown began to rise and walk away, Henry was on his feet, trotting after him. The clown turned to face him.

  “What is it, Henry?”

  “I don’t want you to go,” he said.

  The clown gazed at him. “Are you afraid to be on your own?”

  Henry paused and then nodded ever so slightly.

  “No need for fear. I promise I’ll be back before you know it. I haven’t let you down yet, have I?” He smiled as he said this.

  Henry nodded again. But as the clown turned to go, Henry grabbed his arm. The clown turned and stared at Henry, and Henry stared back.

  And then the clown asked, “Do you want to come with me?”

  “Yes.”

  The clown turned to Helen and Albert. When Henry followed his glance, he could see how frightened Helen looked. Her eyes had grown wide, and she started to protest when the clown stopped her.

  “You know I wouldn’t put Henry in any situation that might be dangerous. He’ll be fine.” Then he turned back to Henry.

  “Okay, my friend. I said you could be my assistant and here’s your chance.”

  And then, the clown started off through the forest, with Henry close behind him. They walked quickly and soon emerged from the woods onto a narrow road that led directly into a small town. As they approached the main square, the clown turned to Henry and whispered, “Stay close to me. Act normal. Follow my directions.”

  Henry didn’t know the name of this small and sleepy town. It was still quite dark outside, and most of the people who lived here were probably still fast asleep in their cozy beds. Several shopkeepers were just beginning to turn on lights in their stores. A man from the bakery opened his door and began to sweep dust and leftover crumbs onto the street. He glanced at Henry and the clown, but paid them little attention as they walked past at a casual pace. A couple of early morning street vendors were pushing their wagons onto the main square. One vendor had his wagon piled high with apples that threatened to fall as the cart lurched and swayed onto the street. Henry gazed longingly at the fruit. The clown caught his gaze but didn’t stop. He clearly knew where he was headed, and he walked confidently toward a small building at one end of the square that looked like an abandoned rooming house. He paused at the door, looking in both directions. And then, he grabbed Henry by the arm and pushed him through the entrance, following close behind.

  Inside, it was completely quiet. The clown steered Henry down an empty hallway, toward a room at the end where a soft glow of light was beckoning them. Henry’s heart was pounding in his chest, not from fear but from excitement. Every nerve in his body was ignited with energy and anticipation. He fel
t as if he were on a secret mission—just him and the clown. At the end of the hallway, with one last backward glance, the clown pushed Henry into the room, entered behind him, and shut the door tightly.

  Inside the room was another young man standing in a corner, away from the windows and partly hidden by a tall cabinet. The man stepped out of the shadow as Henry and the clown walked toward him.

  “Marcel!” the young man exclaimed.

  The clown grabbed the man in a quick hug and then pulled away. He turned to Henry. “I’d like you to meet Alain,” he said. “My brother.”

  Henry stared curiously at the young man. He had never thought about the possibility that the clown had a brother. But here he was. And this person had the same wiry, dark hair and the same long nose. There was no doubting their relationship.

  “He’s my younger brother,” the clown added, smiling and nudging Alain playfully.

  “Yes,” Alain replied. “But I’m the one who’s much smarter.” Then he turned to Henry and held out his hand. “Very nice to meet you.”

  Henry took the extended hand and shook it. “Are you a … a partisan, too?”

  Alain smiled. “Yes. I’m doing the same kind of work as my brother.”

  “Henry’s my helper. But he’s also a budding mime artist,” the clown added. “He understands the value of silence.”

  Alain looked thoughtful. “The two of you must get along really well.”

  “We do,” the clown replied.

  In that moment, in the quiet dimness of that small room, Henry could not have felt more proud.

  The two brothers talked for a few minutes. They discussed the position of Nazi troops patrolling the area and the children who were being smuggled to the border. It seemed that Alain was also helping those who were trying to get to safer places. Henry watched the exchange, soaking in every word.

  “I have three with me this time,” the clown said.

  “I’m just back from the border,” Alain replied. “I had four.”

  “Any trouble?”

  “Nothing to worry about. We managed to avoid a couple of patrols.”

  “And what’s next?” the clown asked.

  “I have another group of four waiting for me to take them across. It seems as if our work is never done.”

  At that, the clown sighed and nodded. Finally, Alain reached into a bag he was carrying and pulled out a stack of papers. When Henry looked closer, he could see that they were identity papers like the one he carried in his own backpack. But these were blank; there were no names and no photographs on them. The clown caught Henry’s curious stare.

  “These will enable more young people like you and your sister and Albert to move from place to place more safely. I’ll fill in the blank spaces when the need arises.”

  With that, he reached into his backpack and placed the blank papers in the hidden compartment at the bottom.

  “Thank you, Alain,” he said.

  The two brothers hugged once more.

  “Good to meet you,” Alain said, shaking hands again with Henry. “You’re in good hands with my brother.” He looked up at the clown. “I hear there may be troops patrolling nearby. Stay safe.”

  “And you, too,” the clown replied.

  With that, Alain left, closing the door behind him. A few minutes later, Henry and the clown followed. Before leaving the village, the clown bought four apples from the vendor in the street. He tossed one to Henry as the two of them headed out of the village and back to the woods.

  CHAPTER 31

  Helen

  Three days into their journey, and the milk, baguettes, cheese, and tomatoes from the farmer’s hayloft were a distant memory—as were the apples that Marcel had brought back for them after his trip to the village with Henry. Food had become scarce, and they ate mainly berries and small roots that they scavenged. They drank fresh water from small streams that flowed next to their path.

  Just before daylight, Marcel sent Helen and Albert out to look for something to eat, warning them to stay within a short distance of the camp he had set up in the forest. Albert was just up ahead of her, pushing back tree branches and searching for things that he knew were edible. He held a bundle of plants in one hand and called back over his shoulder, “There are lots of weeds that we can eat. Clover is pretty good, too. And there’s nectar in the flowers of some of these plants that’s delicious.”

  “How do you know all this?” Helen asked, peering at the thick bush. Nothing looked particularly appetizing.

  Albert looked over at her and smiled. “My family used to go camping all the time. My father would send us into the woods to find food, ‘in case we’re ever stranded on an island,’ he used to say. I never thought any of that would come in handy. But I guess I have my parents to thank for this.”

  Albert stared off into the distance. He rarely spoke about his family.

  “Do you think about them a lot? Your parents?” Helen asked.

  “I used to think about them more,” Albert said. “But lately, not so much. It’s not that I’ve given up hope of ever seeing them again, it’s just that I don’t want to set myself up to be disappointed. And I don’t want to forget about them, but remembering sometimes hurts too much.”

  Helen swallowed hard. “Sometimes I worry that my parents may not be coming back. I try to stop myself from thinking about that, but it isn’t always possible. And then the other day, when Henry went off with Marcel to that town, it felt like forever until they got back. I kept thinking about what it would be like to lose him—to be all alone.”

  Albert nodded. “That’s how I feel most days. You probably can’t see it, and I try to stay positive, but I can’t always do that.” His shoulders sagged.

  Helen stared at him. “Come on,” she finally said. “Show me what plants to look for. We’ll get a few more and then get back. Marcel told us not to wander too far.”

  She glanced around. They had already gone farther than they should have, and it was growing lighter by the minute. Marcel and Henry were nowhere to be seen. She and Albert would have to carefully retrace their steps to get back to their campsite.

  Albert took a deep breath, shaking off the memories. Then he began to move forward. “I see a couple of plants up ahead and then we’ll go—” He paused mid-sentence. A second later, he crouched down, motioning for Helen to do the same.

  She ducked quickly, knowing instinctively that she needed to follow Albert’s lead and ask questions later. A couple of seconds passed, and then he beckoned her to crawl forward, keep her head low. She inched up, pulling herself by her elbows along the forest floor until she was beside him. He pointed ahead.

  Somehow, they had wandered to the edge of the forest. There was a small clearing just ahead, and beyond that, a village nestled into the hills. The sight of the village was not unusual. They had skirted past hamlets like this one the entire time they were hiking in the woods. Marcel had always kept them a safe distance away, warning that it was best not to be seen by anyone, even in these tiny remote communities. This village had several chalet-like houses that leaned against each another, encircling a couple of dirt roads. A church steeple rose from the center of the town. The paint on its exterior had blistered and was peeling off in chunks. Its spire tilted dangerously off its base. Ivy grew up its side unchecked. It was unusual to see a church in such disrepair. Helen knew that even the poorest communities dedicated what little money they had to keeping their churches looking like new. She was so taken with the sight of this crumbling building that for a moment, she didn’t notice where Albert was pointing. And then, she saw it. In the midst of the villagers who walked along the dirt road, there were Nazi soldiers marching next to them, their rifles slung over their shoulders. Helen counted at least a dozen of them. Several held on to German shepherd dogs that drooled and strained on their leashes. They were just like the dogs she had seen the night that Papa had been taken.


  Her stomach shifted uneasily, and the queasiness rose up inside of her like a gigantic wave. She swallowed hard, afraid that she might be sick right here on the edge of this village. Then she ducked her head lower and moved back into the bush, squeezing her hands up against her cheeks. They were burning hot. Albert took one look at her face, dropped the plants he had been carrying, and pulled her up to a standing position, pushing her forward through the bushes. She didn’t know how they managed to make it back to the campsite.

  By the time Albert finished explaining to Marcel what they had seen, Helen felt less sick, though just as anxious. “What are the Nazis doing here?” she cried. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  “It’s just what your brother Alain told us,” Henry said. “He said that he’d seen a Nazi patrol.”

  Helen hadn’t known that. “Do you think this is the same group of soldiers?” she asked.

  “We can’t know if it’s the same patrol,” Marcel replied, keeping his voice even. “But we all need to remain calm. You know there are Nazis searching throughout France. That’s why we’re heading for the border.”

  Helen nodded. “But I just thought we were already far enough away …”

  “I’ve promised to keep you safe, and so far, no danger has come to us,” Marcel continued.

  So far!

  “The best thing you can do”—he spread his arms wide to include Albert and Henry—“the best thing you can all do is get some sleep. Gather your strength. In a few days, you’ll be in Switzerland and all this will be behind you.”

  Helen knew, even before she lay her head on the forest floor, that it would be impossible to sleep. Adrenaline pounded through her body, keeping her mind racing with thoughts of Nazi soldiers and growling German shepherds. She tossed and turned, unable to find a way to let her body relax. She sensed, from the movement in nearby bushes, that Albert and Henry were equally restless. It seemed as if hours passed like this, and then she heard Marcel get up and rouse her and the others. It was still light and Helen knew they were hours away from sunset.